Divided
by forthelongestday
Summary: "The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed." — Carl Gustav Jung / Eclipse AU
1. Chapter 1

**Beta'd by SweeneyAnne, and preread by aerobee82 & alexisdanaan**

**Don't own Twilight.**

* * *

**Prologue**

Stuttered breaths screamed in my lungs. The world crumbled around me. I convulsed and took ragged breaths, expelling the last glimmers of what made me human from my body. This moment was all I'd ever feared come to pass.

"Guess this is how it has to go," he muttered. "It really is too bad. You deserve better."

I couldn't answer, even if I could think of the right words to say. It wasn't so bad; this paralysis of my tongue, and my silence didn't matter, anyway. He always understood the things I couldn't voice.

"The time for worrying is over. Like I told you; your guts, they'll never be gone. You know what comes next."

All this was true—I knew how this story ended, because I'd already lived it.

I'd once thought life was an endless roller-coaster of blades and loss interspersed with shimmers of the things that made such pain worth it. Love, warmth, Edward… those were the only things that shone through such black. I'd thought life was drowning until there was nothing left of me, but I knew now that was wrong. This path was finite—it had an end—and there was more out there than I'd ever dreamed.

His shadow blanketed my body, and I remembered how he'd sworn it wouldn't turn out like the last time, long ago, in a different life. He'd told me that the surface bends and shifts, just as sure as we all remain static in our core. It was much the same as what he told me now, but how could he be sure? He's the one who taught me nothing is for certain.

* * *

**Chapter 1**** - My Sweet, Short Life**

* * *

"_Edward's mouth brushed once across her neck, like a caress. The squealing clamor coming fro__m Seth's efforts covered every other noise, so there was no discernible sound to make the image one of violence. He could have been kissing her._

_And then the fiery tangle of hair was no longer connected to the rest of her__ body. The shivering orange waves fell to the ground, and bounced once before rolling toward the trees."_

—Eclipse, pg. 534

* * *

I exhaled the fear built inside me. It was over.

Edward moved in tandem with Seth, graceful in their task to collect the scattered, bleached chunks of what used to be flesh. Pieces of what used to be people. I had never understood what exactly the word dismemberment had entailed. My stomach lurched and my vision swam. My eyes struggled to keep track of Seth and Edward's rapid movements. A moment later the scent of blood wafting through the cold air came barreling up at me with the force of a wrecking ball, and I couldn't maintain my composure. I would find time to be humiliated for my weak stomach later.

No, it wasn't over. Victoria's head might have been severed from her body—her eyes wide and blank—but she wasn't dead. Not yet.

My eyes flew back to the scene without permission. I didn't want to watch, but I couldn't look away as Edward and Seth piled up piece after piece and set the whole pyre aflame with the single flick of a lighter. Sparks shot out from the base, and a dark tower of smoke rose up into the sky. It smelled foul, noxious. For just a moment I could hear the shattering of glass and boards being ripped from a floor. Phantom lava raced through my veins with the memory.

I couldn't breathe.

Victoria was gone. I had never watched someone die before. I heaved.

"Bella, love?" Edward called from across the crowded, snow-littered clearing. He glanced down at my arm, and when my eyes followed his, I found I was still bleeding. Little drops of red ran down the lengths of my fingers to drip onto the snow. I used to think blood spatters across white was the most violent and gruesome image I could conjure, but the flames of the pyre warmed my skin in a nauseatingly welcome way that redefined that absolute. I was sure I'd be sick again.

Edward spoke again; I hadn't noticed him come closer. "I'm going to dress this, alright?"

I heard a soft tear, but couldn't keep my vision from shifting between the blood dripping from my fingertips and the fire raging far too close to me. I was in shock, I had to be. I couldn't feel anything but that murderous heat contrasting against the chill of the wind. I couldn't make out anything over my pounding heart. It was like I was underwater, holding my breath to stave off drowning.

Edward used a piece of his shirt to tie around my arm, and another to wipe the blood from my fingers. That one went straight into the fire when he was done. He kept talking. If I didn't know better I would have thought he was nervous. I caught snippets of words echoing between us; foolish, surprise, tactics, fine. I didn't understand how he could think to use that last one at all.

With effort I managed to rip my attention from the fire long enough to look Edward in the eye. Worry creased his forehead and a frown pulled at his lips. The moment our eyes locked he leaned in and kissed my forehead with that light touch I'd come to love from him. He whispered against my skin, "It's almost over."

Time slid by, tangled and confused as I tried to steady my breathing and come to terms with what had just happened. Then, without warning, it all sped up again.

Edward tore himself away from me in the space of one blink. He stood by Seth with a fearsome look on his face, his eyes unfocused. "No!_"_

Seth whimpered and began to pace while my mind struggled to keep up with the abrupt shift in atmosphere.

"_No_," Edward repeated, harsher. "Don't— _Go_, Seth!"

Seth threw back his head and howled into the sky before bolting through a gap in the trees, and before I knew what had happened Edward started pulling me through the woods toward another tower of smoke.

More words came spewing out of him, explanations maybe, though I only caught half of what he said until he mentioned Jane. Her name splintered the air and sent tremors through me. Her smile burned in my memory, as vivid as the wind cutting across my cheeks. My heart stopped when Jacob's name passed his lips next, and I finally understood. We were rushing because of the Volturi, but Seth—Seth had taken off because his brother was hurt.

Whatever explanation Edward gave was lost; I could only hope that when we got to the others, we wouldn't be confronted with more death. My thoughts were consumed with fear for Jacob, and I wondered if the last thing I ever would have done was give him hope, when I knew nothing could ever come to be between us. I didn't know if the lie was horrible or something to be thankful for.

Edward paused and turned to grip my shoulders. "Are you with me?"

I nodded, the action entirely reflexive. We had to get to the others. There wasn't time to deal with whatever part of my brain had shut down.

When we arrived at the clearing it felt like it had been weeks since we'd left the comfort of the Cullen's house.

My eyes automatically searched for Jacob, but all there was were the shadows of vampires standing around the fire, talking too quietly for me to hear. Alice turned toward me with a forced ease, and she smiled. "He's going to be okay, Bella. They took him back to La Push, but he's going to be okay. Good as new."

"Are you sure?" My throat ached, dry and irritated from the smoke. Edward relaxed next to me, and I realized those were the first words I'd spoken since Victoria had found us. He must have been worried.

"Yes. Carlisle saw to him." Alice nodded firmly, but her demeanor shifted in the next moment. "It's going to be okay, Bella."

For some reason that last statement sounded more broad.

"How bad?" I asked.

Alice faltered for a moment; Edward took the opportunity to answer. "He broke quite a few bones, but they were already mending by the time the others left with him. He's going to be fine, Bella."

There was that word again. Relief washed through me, but respite was fleeting. A greater fear rushed through me when Alice whispered, "They're coming. Two minutes."

A weak growl echoed from the opposite side of the fire, and my breath caught in my throat when I caught sight of the girl cowering in Jasper's shadow. She was dirty and wild, hair tangled and matted with dirt streaking her face between glowing red eyes. She glared at me—hard, cold, vicious—hungry with a need that I couldn't grasp the complexity of. She was like a warning, an omen of what was to come. If I squinted just right, she looked like me.

"She surrendered," Edward explained from my left side. "Don't be afraid. Jasper will keep her in control."

As if to punctuate Edward's assurances, Jasper growled right back at the girl trembling in the dirt beneath him; his was a fierce rumbling that shook the ground and distorted the air as it erupted from his chest. The girl quieted, but her needy eyes never left mine.

Alice grabbed my hand in hers. "They're here."

Five shadows spilled out from the surrounding trees; the smallest sent shivers down my spine. I wouldn't ever forget the malicious tint to Jane's stride. She almost looked disappointed when she looked around the clearing to see us all whole and visibly undamaged.

Jasper took a step away from the girl he'd been guarding when Jane's eyes settled on her. He adjusted his stance to allow himself a full view of all present. Emmett shifted a little closer to me, his sight, too, focused squarely on the Volturi. Their defensive behavior did nothing to quell the unease rising in me. Panic began spreading through my limbs, and I expended as much effort as I could on breathing in soft, even measures, while Jane talked to the girl in a voice too low for me to make out.

Something bad was about to happen. I could taste it in the air. In and out.

Jane smiled, and I jerked my head away so fast the girl hadn't even begun to scream. My first instinct was to look toward Edward, to try to find some small reassurance in him, but his face was emotionless. He watched the scene as if it was of no more interest than the grass shivering in the breeze, and I couldn't stand it. To the right only I was only met with more of the same. The girl's screams shredded the clearing, and no one made any move to help her—they didn't allow the slightest frown to pass their lips—except for Jasper. Jasper who had his eyes squeezed shut and jaw clenched so hard I thought for a moment he might shatter his teeth. Jane let up, and the moment the girl stopped screaming I watched Jasper's nostrils flare with a noticeably deep breath. I wondered if he felt like I did, or if it what he was feeling was actually Jane's gift slicing through the girl.

"What is your _name?_" Jane demanded. "Who created you?"

I kept my eyes on Jasper, and did my best not to listen to the conversation being had between the Volturi, Carlisle, and Edward. It wasn't exactly soothing, Jasper's reaction, but at least it was something. Now that Jane had let up he was just as stoic as the rest of them, but there was something there in his narrowed eyes, so subtle I couldn't place it. It made the events transpiring less horrific, if only by a fraction. It was like he recognized that something terrible was occurring; like he would stop all this violence in its tracks, if only he were able instead of standing by in idle resignation like all the rest.

A sudden movement caught my eye, and I blinked once to see Felix moving toward the fire. Jasper made short and quick strides closer to Alice, Edward, and I, and a moment later Felix stalked toward the girl. It was obvious they were going to kill her.

"Don't watch," Edward said, his voice so quiet I had to strain to hear him even though his lips were only an inch from my ear.

I didn't answer, and I didn't comply.

The girl screamed and howled; Felix seemed to take a severe amount of pleasure in her destruction. The smoldering bonfire erupted when Felix threw her still squirming limbs into the flames. A shriek pierced the air so intensely that I worried I'd lose my hearing.

I couldn't look away any more than I could stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. I couldn't explain it; there was something in me that didn't care if I didn't know her, or that if it hadn't been for Jasper she would have tried to rip my throat out. She was just a girl—or at least she used to be—and she deserved a witness. She deserved a sad face somewhere in this sea of apathy watching her final moments.

I caught Jasper's movement out of the corner of my eye. He stepped closer, his eyes focused over my head toward Edward, and after whatever conversation they had playing out between them was settled, he moved closer to my side. His palm splayed over the small of my back. Jasper hadn't touched me once in over a year, not since Phoenix.

I'd expected a torrent of calm, or maybe a measure of sedation—instead, I felt a swell of respect and sympathy that bubbled and ebbed away as quick as it came, and then nothing but a tangled web clawing through my body from the place where his hand touched my shirt. It made me think he was just as upset about what was happening before us as I was.

The world kept spinning, time kept on marching. Conversation and argument swirled around me and through the clearing, as thick as the towering plume of smoke, but all I could do was stare as the last of the screams died and ashes fluttered through the wind.

* * *

Hours later, I could still hear her screaming.

The evening air was cold, unseasonably so, but I couldn't force myself to climb out of bed and close the window. I couldn't make myself do much of anything except for stare at the ceiling and try my hardest to forget the terror piercing my eardrums and acrid stench of smoke.

I didn't understand how Edward could watch something like that happen and then walk away as if it had never happened. I'd already showered three times since leaving the woods; I didn't think I'd ever be clean again. I could swear there were ashes stuck to the inside of my lungs.

I couldn't have said what I expected to be met with at the Cullen's house, but business as usual certainly was not it. Over the past day I'd felt like my world was falling apart at the seams. All through the morning and afternoon I'd been plagued by that small, teenage girl set ablaze, and how could it be I was the only one? There was no discernible difference in those I called my surrogate family. No black shrouds or overcast haze settled over a gloomy living room. No one mourned her.

I'd gotten the impression that Edward didn't understand. Or maybe he just didn't understand to the extent I needed him to. He seemed to think my behavior was wrapped up in some sort of fear of him, and after I made a lone attempt to convince him that wasn't the case; he left me alone with Alice. I thought that she probably had a better idea of what was haunting me. I couldn't be sure; I wasn't paying all that much attention anyway.

Bottles of nail polish littered the bedspread. Alice was busy painting the nails of my left hand, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. How could Alice care about makeup after what had happened out in the woods? The events weighed heavily on my heart, on my soul—I'd never really believed that it was even there until today. Not until I felt it crush.

"Stop pushing her," Jasper said, leaning against the doorframe. He'd come out of nowhere. "Give her some space, Alice."

"It's fine," I mumbled, my gaze falling back to the little bottles scattered over Alice's bed.

"Just one more coat," Alice conceded. Her hand settled on my knee. "I only have to do the topcoat, and then we'll be finished."

The door latched shut behind us without another word from Jasper, and Alice got to work on finishing my nails.

"I know it's hard," she murmured. "But you'll be okay. You always are. No matter what happens, every time I see you, you're okay."

"What do you see now?" I asked, at first out of courtesy to keep our conversation going—but once the question had passed my lips I found that I was immensely curious to know the answer.

"Many things." Alice smiled. "I do know that whatever this is, it will pass."

Something rose up inside me at her assurance, some vicious and black offense that rushed through me in the span of a second. Even I was surprised at how harsh I sounded when I replied, "I don't want it to pass. I never want to forget this. _Someone_ should remember."

Alice paused, and then set down the bottle of polish. "I didn't mean it like that."

I tried for a smile. It didn't work this time, either. "I know."

"It's okay to feel broken up about it, Bella. What happened today, none of us ever wanted you to see something like that."

"But that's the reality you live in, isn't it?" It was a challenge, and one Alice backed down from.

"Sometimes." She didn't say anything else on the matter.

Alice tried to convince me to stay, but in the end I just couldn't. The moment she freed me from her clutches found me fleeing from the Cullen house on far sturdier legs than I knew I had. Only minutes later I was racing down the highway, the pace of my thoughts only slightly slower than the speed of my truck. By the time I got home there was just one clear thought in my mind, and I latched onto it with desperation in the hopes that it would chase all the horrors clinging to me into the shadows. I needed to go see Jacob, to see with my own eyes that he was, indeed, okay―but there were pretenses to keep up. There were lies that needed to stay viable. I had to wait for Charlie to make it home before I could leave. He had to see all the bags and the hair and makeup job Alice had done; he had to believe that I'd been shopping with her this whole time.

I had no idea when it was I became this person who lied to her father so much. All that deception was starting to leave a bad taste in my mouth.

The ceiling held little distraction from thoughts of Jacob.

I was surprised Edward didn't come over, but perhaps he realized that I needed some space, or maybe Jasper had stopped him like he'd tried to get Alice to back off earlier. I hadn't spoken more than twenty words to Edward since watching him kill Victoria; since setting eyes on the Volturi and watching them burn that girl to ashes. I wasn't even sure which event was causing me such conflict, which death weighed more heavily on my mind. I shook my head and stared at the ceiling, refusing to blink.

I was eighteen years old, and not forty-eight hours ago I'd agreed to marry a man who had lived so long and seen so much that he was completely unaffected by ripping a woman's head off and setting her body ablaze. I was no fool―I knew it was her or me―but I hadn't known I was going to be present when it happened. I hadn't thought it would be Edward who killed her. In all the time we'd spent together I had never felt so small.

Victoria had been out to get me. I had always known that they were going to kill her, but that knowledge hadn't ever solidified into reality. The rest—the newborns—all those people who had their lives ripped away from them without any warning, they were all dead, too. It didn't feel like my fault, but it felt like my burden.

I wondered if one day I would look back on this moment and realize that this was the first step. This decision that I hadn't ever wanted to admit was there could be something that defined me, not just for the rest of my lifetime, but for forever. Suddenly the potential, endless years stretching out in front of me seemed so vast. They would be filled with pain and hard choices, leaving the people I loved, and death―so much death. I hadn't understood that last part before. The blankets bunched under my clenching fingers as I looked toward the empty rocking chair in the corner, and I knew the answers to every question I had laid in the one I didn't want to ask.

Could I deal with the possibility that one day might look at myself and see that I was unaffected by these things that horrified me now―and for Edward, would that be worth it? I didn't know, and I didn't want that to be a choice I had to make.

So much of the future was still inconceivable to me. It was blurry and grey, with streaks of color woven through of the aspects of life that I thought I might understand―but in the end, I had no idea what was out there, or what I was when stood in the middle of it. I'd always assumed no one knew the answer to that question, but for the first time I thought that maybe I should have a better understanding of myself before throwing it all away. And that was exactly what it felt like I'd be doing; throwing it all away before I even had the chance to see what it could be.

I never thought I might agree with Rosalie about something.

I resolved to let these thoughts stew. Making snap decisions never ended well.

The sound of the front door slamming brought me to my feet so quick that had I been in any state to notice, I would have been proud of myself. I took the steps two at a time, and was met with the sight of Charlie poking around in the refrigerator. It was almost time for dinner.

"Hey," Charlie said. He pulled a beer from the bottom shelf and turned to appraise me. "You look nice."

I didn't even remember what I was wearing. A dress, apparently.

"Alice." It was all the explanation he needed and I breathed a sigh of relief that Charlie wasn't going to be asking too many questions.

"I'm assuming that since you didn't change, you heard what happened." Charlie said, and I nodded.

"Did you see him?"

"Yeah." This was one of those times when I wished Charlie wasn't a man of so few words.

"How is he?" I pushed, hoping for some bit of good news to get me through the drive to La Push. It came out as less of a question and more a demand.

"Hollering, mostly." Charlie shook his head. "Dr. Cullen said he'd be fine, though."

"Good." I let out the breath from my lungs in a single gust, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I'd never felt so relieved in my life.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked, his brow furrowed.

I wanted to say that no, I wasn't even close to being okay. That I still heard screams and pleas for asylum thundering in my head every single time I closed my eyes and allowed my thoughts to wander, but Charlie didn't need to know that. "I'm fine."

It was obvious that he didn't believe me.

"You can talk to me, you know?" Charlie's voice was gruff and strained as he narrowed his eyes. It felt like he was dissecting me, trying to figure out just what in the world could have happened in two days to cause whatever little signs I was giving off that told him I wasn't doing so well anymore. I was almost disappointed that he wouldn't ever be able to figure it out.

"I know."

"Alright. Whenever you're ready, then." Charlie gestured toward my jacket and keys. "You going to see Jake?"

"Right after dinner," I answered, darting to the refrigerator. I hoped we had sandwich fixings, I didn't think I could stand the time it would take to cook something right now.

"I can fend for myself. Go on, I know you won't believe he's okay until you see for yourself," Charlie said, nodding toward the door.

I didn't need any more encouragement. The drive to La Push was twice as long as I remembered.

Jacob's house was suspiciously clear of visitors. It took near a full minute of sitting in my truck to realize that everyone must be eating dinner, like Charlie and I had been about to. The lack of bystanders made it both harder and easier to get out of the truck cab and walk through the front door.

Jacob looked better than I'd imagined. Instead of being covered in plaster and bruises he was wearing braces, and had a glassy look in his eyes. It seemed Alice hadn't been kidding when she told me Carlisle was having trouble figuring out how to medicate him.

"I didn't think he'd let you come," Jacob said. His speech was slurred and tired.

"What?"

"Ed-ward," Jacob clarified, drawing the last syllable out. "Thought he was sure to be pissed. Keep you locked up in that ivory tower."

"I don't know― Oh." In all the musing I'd done over the course of the day, I hadn't once thought about that kiss. "I forgot about that."

"_Wow_, Bella. My ego is like, ballooning."

"I've had a lot on my mind." I felt terrible that figuring out how to deal with Jacob hadn't been one of those things. I'd been focused on whether or not he was going to be alright, not what was going to happen if he was.

"Was he mad?" Jacob asked. He seemed to be coming out of his haze.

"No. I kind of wish he had been."

"Masochist," Jacob accused, rolling his eyes. "So that was pretty much a waste then, huh? 'Least I got to kiss you once without you breaking your hand on my face afterward."

"Jake―"

Jacob interrupted. "I get it. You don't want it bad enough."

"That's not exactly what the problem is," I answered. I tried to smile, but judging from the look on his face I didn't do such a good job of it. I was terrible at pretending today. "I think that maybe I want it too much. I want a lot of things too much. It all feels so desperate and imperative, and I'm not sure which of all these things actually came from me in the first place. I don't know what I want or what I need, or what just came screaming along with everything else."

"Are you still going to marry the leech?" Jacob asked with narrowed eyes. I got the distinct impression he was weighing his odds.

"Edward," I corrected quietly.

I'd gotten so used to Jacob and the rest of the wolves refusing to call the Cullens by their names that it was habit now, however, this time I was more stalling than anything else. I wasn't sure how much to tell Jake. The rest of the pack would know everything as soon as he phased, and I didn't know if I could take the risk of my uncertainties being spread so wide. The more people that knew, the more chance Edward had to find out second-hand, and anything to do with us or our relationship was something he deserved to hear from me.

"I hadn't exactly gotten that far yet." It wasn't really a lie, not entirely.

"I don't get it." Jacob sighed. "I could... we could be good. We could be _so_ good. Nobody sees it but me."

"I think Edward can kind of see it, too," I said quietly. "As for me— I don't know. I think I'm too far gone."

"You just _had_ to go and fall in love with a freakin' vampire." Jacob laughed and then groaned; the morphine was definitely starting to wear off.

I started to tell him that somewhere along the line I might have fallen in love with him, too, but it seemed so inordinately cruel. Instead I grabbed his hand in mine and told him, "You're always going to be my best friend. Always. And if I marry Edward, then you'll be my best man, if you want."

"That is so unfair. You can't ask me that when I'm high." Jacob chuckled and shook his head at me. "It's cheating."

"Well, let's just say I learned about that from you."

"D'you want to talk about it? Whatever it is that has you so tangled up that you forgot about that epic kiss I planted on you?"

I sighed. Everyone kept asking, but I had no idea what to say. "No. Not really. Not right now."

"How about the gist?" Jacob prodded.

I nodded. I could deal with generalities, maybe. I could at least try. "There were… Some really upsetting things happened after you guys left. Before you left. The whole thing was kind of disturbing."

"How so?"

"I- I didn't realize how violent it would be. I thought that since Edward and I were away from the action it wouldn't be so… much." The explanation was vague and unsatisfying.

Jacob understood what I was getting at, even through the haze of morphine. He gave me a look that clearly meant to say he thought I was insane and asked, "So, you're upset because the _vampires_ and _werewolves_ were killing things?"

It sounded nuts when he put it like that. I was embarrassed for myself.

"Even I didn't realize you were that naïve." Jacob shook his head. The action was labored, and after a moment he sank a little further into the pillows and blankets on his bed.

"This is why I didn't want to talk about it," I protested. I sounded so weak. So little.

"You know where I'll be when you do." Jacob's eyelids started to droop, and I decided that was my cue to head back home.

Once I was back in my truck and on the highway heading home, it took all I had in me to make the correct turn-off instead of give in to the desire to just keep going, keep driving.

The relief I felt knowing Jacob was really okay was short-lived. Another half-mile down the road I had to pull over to try to catch my breath. It hadn't felt real until now. It was just some sickening scene in a horror film I hadn't been able to turn away from, but second by second the reality of what I'd watched happen came crashing in harder.

The steering wheel felt cold under my forehead as it vibrated in time with the engine. The sob that tore its way through my body sent tears streaming down my cheeks; I was helpless to stop any of it. I couldn't do anything but grip the wheel tighter and cry.

The creak of the passenger side door wasn't surprising. My shoulders slumped and my heart ached, and Edward pulled me across the bench seat to bury my face in his chest. "Shh, love. It's alright. Everything's going to be just fine. You'll see."

I couldn't stop sobbing long enough to tell him that I wasn't so sure I'd ever be able to believe that again.

I forced myself to inhale, and the smell of him instantly soothed the wound inflicted on my heart. In some deranged way I hated him for it. If I couldn't find anything in myself to keep going, what good was I? If I didn't hurt for that girl who I couldn't stop seeing as some twisted version of a future me, then no one else would. Still I pressed closer, let Edward hold me tighter. I was too weak for anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Beta'd by sweeneyanne and pre-read by aerobee82 & AlexisDanaan. 3**

**Don't own Twilight**

* * *

**Chapter 2**** - Gave You Everything**

Normal had become a relative term in the time since I'd moved to Forks.

Normal, I had decided, was Edward's crooked smile. It was always wondering what the future held for us, and the certainty that I knew how to get us to a place where we could be happy forever. Now, I wasn't so sure. It had been nine days, and if I'd learned anything it was that I knew very little.

It was normal for me to have bad dreams that drenched my sheets in sweat and sent a terror through me so deep that I woke up screaming. They used to be of Victoria, or Edward leaving; now they were of a small girl with a dirty face; that tiny thing that shattered the blinders I'd had on since coming to Forks.

It wasn't normal to have nightmares every night—not since Edward had come back—and it wasn't normal for him to be unable to soothe me in an instant.

Before it had been involuntary to find comfort in Edward's presence. He was like a drug; some wonderful cocktail that instantly washed away everything else. Now I had to let him. The smell and feel of him did nothing until I gave in to it, and when he wrapped his arms around me late at night I couldn't help but think that I was cheating. Instead of processing and dealing with the things that disturbed me so much I could cling to Edward and forget about them for a while, and what good did that do anyone? The only thing this accomplished was conditioning me to hold on to him tighter, to further wrap myself in him to survive.

If I was Edward's heroin, then he was my Quaalude.

He spent nights in my room, like always, though he was no longer enough to keep the nightmares at bay. They came quicker and harder than before and nearly every night. The smoke would strangle me as shrieks and the screeching of ripping flesh pierced my ears—and by the time Edward managed to wake me I would be sweaty and shaking. I could never find my voice to tell him what terrors came searching me out while I slept. He probably didn't realize these nightmares were any different from the others, and he didn't understand my sudden shyness.

It was like he stunted me. With Edward, there was never any reason to find these things in myself. I couldn't help but think that I shouldn't need him like this. I shouldn't be so desperate for his comfort that when he was gone there was nothing that could calm me. I felt weak, and rebellious; like I was itching to shed my skin just to see if I would become something more than I was.

Without Edward I was hardly even a person, and that couldn't possibly be right. I couldn't figure out when it was that I'd forgotten to stand on my own, and every time Edward steadied me when I was about to stumble, I wondered if this was really the life I wanted to live for eternity.

Every time the walls started closing in on me, Edward was there—and it made me feel ill that above all else, this was normal. Then, without warning, it all started to fade away. His smile sent fewer butterflies loose, his touch felt colder. Every time he guarded his expression or evaded a question I remembered that look on his face out in the clearing, and I couldn't stand it. I started being the one to look away first.

I felt like the biggest fraud in the known universe. Maybe somewhere out there in the vastness of space there was someone in even more denial than I was, but it was hard to believe. I was disgusted with myself for trying to pretend everything was okay when my entire world felt like it was crumbling by the minute.

Time passed. Suddenly it had been two weeks. Fourteen days instead of nine. Endless hours of sitting with Edward on his couch, or letting Alice experiment with my hair and make wedding preparations. Day after day spent at the Cullen house playing games with Emmett or sitting in uncomfortable silence with Rosalie. I cooked with Esme, and read with Carlisle. Jasper—Jasper watched. He melted into the background and observed while I pretended everything was fine, his presence a weight I could feel on the very edge of my periphery. His sharp observation was a constant reminder that while I could lie to myself and to Edward, I couldn't hide what I felt from him. I had trouble deciding how I felt about Jasper. On one hand it was nice to be seen, on the other I'd grown quite fond of hiding.

"I think we should string up the lights in the front, too," Alice stole my attention from her husband by prattling on about something or another involving the decorations. "But then we'd have to order more of them, and they wouldn't come in for another week. It'll be okay, though, I'll talk to Edward."

"Sure," I mumbled. The more she talked about the wedding the more wretched I felt.

"We're going to head up to Port Angeles in a bit to look at flower arrangements; we can talk more about it then. The flowers are really the important part. They tie everything together."

I had to talk to Edward. This was all moving way too fast. I couldn't get married in mere weeks. I couldn't even fathom it. It wasn't enough time.

I had the intense desire to pack up my bags and get the hell out of dodge, to flee and not look back until I was a thousand miles away. Maybe somewhere on the endless pavement of the highway I would finally be able to think clearly. The need for space grew more apparent with every passing day, and I didn't know how much longer it would be before I found myself doing the very same thing Renee had all those years ago. It seemed I was more like my mother than I'd thought.

Alice's hand laid over mine, stilling the unconscious twirling of the ring on my left hand.

"Sorry."

"It's alright."

"So…" I wasn't completely sure what she'd been talking about. "Shopping?"

Alice scowled at me in the mirror. She tried to hide her amusement but didn't quite manage. "You think that's all I talk about, don't you?"

"And make-up." I smiled, feeling lighter. "And my hair. My God, Alice, you've been doing my hair every day for nearly a week now."

"Fine, you just so happened to be right; we were talking about shopping. But it was a lucky guess, and you know it." Alice huffed, but her lips never turned down. She muttered to herself. "I talk about other stuff."

"Like shoes," I pointed out, and Alice tugged the brush through my hair a little harder than necessary in retaliation. "Fine. You also bring up your car a lot."

"My car is awesome."

"Your car was bribery, and I still don't appreciate what you did to get it." That act was one in a sea of many that had made me feel little other than smothered for months on end.

"I supposed I do have to re-evaluate my apprehension of the wolves, but I stand by my reasoning." Alice's nose wrinkled in distaste.

I didn't answer. I still hadn't managed to completely forgive her for sending out the wedding invitations without telling me first. More and more I felt my choices slipping through my fingers. For nearly every decision I had to make, conscious or otherwise, there was a vampire standing by, telling me what I should do.

Jacob hadn't been so strict. He'd had his opinions, and firm ones at that, but he mostly complained rather than manipulated. It would be so nice to be able to talk to him instead of worrying if he was even alive. He never should have found out like that. It was something I should have told him face to face.

"I wouldn't go that far," Edward said, and I glanced up into the mirror to smile at him the best I could. I hated that it was so easy for him to sneak up on me.

"How many times do I have to tell you that Jacob would never hurt me?" I shook my head and received an irritated tongue click from Alice.

"Thousands, love," Edward answered, coming to stand by my side. He leaned down to kiss the top of my head, only to be shooed off by Alice.

"Her _hair!_"

Edward chuckled and kissed my forehead instead. I reached out a hand for his, and he leaned against the counter.

Everything felt different. Off, somehow. Where before being with Edward was like floating in a blissfully peaceful dream, now the illusion was torn and marred with scratches that couldn't be polished out. I gripped his hand tighter, as if that would somehow bring the spark back, but his cold hand against mine only brought chills.

Edward waited while Alice finished whatever it was she was doing to my hair, and before I knew it she'd dumped my purse in my lap and gathered her own.

"I wish I didn't have to share you so much," Edward said. He bent and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, and there was no denying it—he was still very capable of making me swoon.

"Oh, don't be dramatic." Alice scoffed. "We'll be back before you know it. She can survive one day without you, you know."

"You are hiding something from me," Edward accused with narrowed eyes in her direction.

Alice just laughed, unbothered by the accusation. "I am hiding a great many things from you, dear brother. Deal with it."

Edward turned his attention back to me. "Hurry back, love."

"Yeah."

It was moments like this, when he touched me so soft and let his lips linger on mine, that it was easy to love him. Right then, there was nothing in the world but Edward.

"Ready?" Jasper asked, stepping away from the wall and bringing his presence back into the foreground.

With effort I turned away from Edward to ask Jasper, "Are you coming with us?"

"We need someone to carry all the bags," Alice said with a shrug. She had a little smile on her face that always meant she was planning something, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what. She faced Edward before he managed to object. "And no, you're not coming along. If you're there we'll never get all of our errands done."

Edward didn't seem happy with the arrangement, but in the end he knew it wouldn't do him any good to argue with Alice. After a lingering look toward Jasper he released me, and I was herded into the passenger seat of Carlisle's Mercedes.

I was surprised Jasper didn't insist on driving; apparently that wasn't so much a male thing as it was an Edward thing. He sat in the back seat, and it was easy to forget he was even there over the course of the drive to Port Angeles. Only the tell-tale slam of his door when we arrived reminded me of his presence. He fell into step behind us, and it wasn't until we'd walked through the entryway that Alice turned to her husband with a wry smile on her lips.

"Why don't you take Bella to get something to eat," she suggested. "Then come and find me."

Jasper nodded before turning to me. "Is that alright with you?"

It couldn't be normal, how touched I was that he asked. The past year and a half I'd felt like I was being pulled and pushed in every direction―told who to be friends with and when to spend time with them, and it was just too much. The moment I realized I could choose to become a vampire before someone else came along and decided for me, I grabbed on as hard as I could, and look where that got me.

Jasper gave me an odd look when I nodded. I couldn't even imagine what sort of crazy emotions I was putting out there.

"It's fine. I am kind of hungry."

Jasper pressed a sweet kiss to Alice's lips, and I looked off to the side; I never felt comfortable watching their affection. Everything between them was so intense.

"Food court?" Jasper asked, and I turned to see Alice's back as she waded her way through the throng of shoppers. It was so strange, that she would leave me alone with him, and I wondered what had happened that apparently neither Edward nor Alice had any qualms about me and Jasper spending time together. They'd always worried about him before.

It wasn't until we were settled at a small, round table at the far edge of the dining area that I began to feel nervous. I hadn't spent very much time with Jasper and virtually none alone with him. He always kept his distance, both before and after my disastrous eighteenth birthday. I couldn't figure out why he would agree to some alone time now; it couldn't be for anything good. I ate in tense silence as I waited for him to get the ball rolling on whatever it was that was causing him to look at me with such an appraisal.

"Are you waiting for me to ask you if you're okay?" Jasper asked, his head tilted to the left and a sad sort of amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"Everyone else does."

"I'm not everyone else." Jasper shrugged. "I don't have to ask. I know you aren't."

I was suddenly terrified he was going to tell everyone what a liar I was. "The others..."

"I haven't said a word."

I let out a breath, thankful that at least I wouldn't have an entire family of vampires playing fix the human.

"Alice knows something is going on, but only because she saw that I was trying to decide how to approach you without arousing suspicion." Jasper explained with a dismissive wave as if were of no consequence, and after a moment I figured that he was probably right. Alice had orchestrated this meeting of sorts between us; I couldn't imagine she would have if either of them intended to tell Edward that something was wrong.

"She planned this?" I asked, just to be sure.

Jasper smiled fondly, and glanced in the direction Alice had left in. "She thought it would be good for us to talk, without prying ears."

"About what?" I asked, melancholy creeping into my mind. I could barely figure out what I felt for myself; the prospect of trying to explain it to someone else was beyond daunting.

"About whatever you would like to. You know my story. You know what I used to be. There isn't anything you could say that would make me judge you."

I considered Jasper's offer far longer than I needed to, and he waited patiently as I swirled my fries in ketchup and finished my soda. It would be good to talk to someone, and I believed Jasper when he said he wouldn't pass judgement, no matter what came out of my mouth.

"I still have trouble believing it," I started. I kept my attention focused squarely on the half-eaten plate of french fries in front of me. In the wake of pulling my thoughts together I decided the ketchup reminded me far too much of blood. My stomach churned, and I pushed the plate forward before settling back.

"I knew that she was going to die. It was me or her, and I thought I was okay with that. I guess..." I trailed off, lost for a way to put into words something I'd tried so hard not to think about. But it was there, right on the tip of my tongue; it was the complete truth, and it made me nauseated. "I don't think I saw her as a person before. I didn't realize that dying for her was... well, dying."

In the very top of my vision I could barely make out Jasper watching the crowd pass behind me with an easy detachment as he waited for me to continue.

"I don't know how I feel about watching it happen. And Riley... he didn't know what he was doing, not really. He was a victim, too―I don't know if I should feel bad for him."

Jasper shifted his gaze back to me. "We should always pity and respect the loss of life, Bella. Always. That is what makes us human."

"You don't agree with Edward? That you're monsters?"

"No, I don't," Jasper answered. "We see, we feel. We love. How could we be monsters other than by choice? Nothing is inherently evil. Everything is made."

"That girl..." I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep the tears at bay.

"Her name was Bree," Jasper said, his eyes locked on mine.

"I can still hear her screaming. I can smell her burning. She haunts me."

"Me, too."

"I think watching that happen, it broke me." It was something I never imagined I'd confess, but it was so apt. There was no way to un-see something so horrific. It was impossible to bridge the chasm that scene had split in my heart.

"You know that if I had it my way, we would have killed her immediately," Jasper said. I nodded. "Now that I've had the time to look at the situation from another angle, I think that was wrong of me. I was thinking in terms of the fight. It was sloppy to allow a surrender, but it was the right thing to do. I respect Carlisle for being able to see that. He saved me from doing something I would have regretted."

"You don't think it would have been merciful to just end it quick?"

"You mean to ask, would I have been any more kind or considerate in killing her than Felix?" Jasper clarified, and I nodded. "No. I don't think I would have. She certainly would not have been burned so soon."

"You're not really making me feel any better." I didn't actually find his perspective bothersome, but I did find it curious. Everyone tended to tiptoe around me; there was something comforting in talking so plainly.

"I figured you'd had enough of platitudes. The truth is that Bree would have died a painful death, no matter who had done it. The fact that in the end it wasn't me only makes _us_ feel better."

"I don't feel better. It's still horrible," I argued.

"Yes, it is," Jasper agreed with a nod.

"Why didn't anyone try to help her?" I asked, even though I wasn't sure I wanted to know. It made my heart heavy to think of all the possible reasons why none of the Cullens did anything beyond talk to try to save her.

"I think any one of them would have if there had been anything to do, but you need to understand that there was no hope. The Volturi had decided to kill any newborns they encountered long before they showed up."

"Nobody seems to care," I said quietly. "I look around, and I'm the only one who is any different."

"We've all seen far more gruesome scenes in our times on this earth. It is…" Jasper paused a moment to consider his explanation. "It is sad that we can make such claims. We are desensitized to death and destruction, even Carlisle, even Esme. That was not something new for us; we've all inflicted much worse."

"And someday that's going to be me."

"Perhaps." Jasper shrugged his shoulder and went back to watching the people milling about the food court. "But your situation is unique—you have the gift of knowing what it is you are walking in to. I used to be able to say you also have the advantage of choosing this life for yourself, but you don't sound so sure anymore."

"Eighteen used to sound so old," I muttered. The crowd was endless, a steady stream of people wandering or rushing. They were all going somewhere, and it struck me as incredibly sad that they were all out in the world trying to run their lives when I was trying to run from mine. "Being sure, it used to be all about Edward. I'm older than him; we can't really be together until I'm like him. He was everything."

"And now he's not?"

"Now I'm not sure if I want to be like him. That look on his face… I can't believe none of that bothered him."

"It did, actually. Edward was very upset with what happened that day." Jasper pursed his lips and again seemed to consider what to say next. This time it took him longer before he continued, "Edward has mastered the art of keeping himself in check. A side-effect of his gift, I think. For Edward, everything is much more complicated than it is for you, and even for me. He can't give away his reactions so easily."

I couldn't help the bitterness that seeped into my tone. "I've noticed."

Jasper's voice took on a tinge of sympathy. "He doesn't seem to understand how it affects you."

I picked up my napkin and tore it into strips as I considered how to phrase what else I wanted to ask him. There was so much rattling around inside my head; I didn't want to waste this opportunity to ask bold questions to someone who wouldn't try to spare my feelings in answering. Talking to Jasper was nice in that way. He didn't hold back.

"With Alice… does it ever feel like there's not much of a you without her?" I asked

"Is that how you feel with Edward?"

"I guess." I shrugged, aiming for an easy indifference, even though I knew I'd already given away all my feelings. "I kind of resented it before, all those times Edward or Alice, even Rosalie, would tell me that I was young, or that I had so much left to see of the world. Turns out they were right."

"I happen to agree with them on that point. You are very young, even in human terms. There's nothing wrong with that."

"There is when your fiancé is always going to be seventeen years old," I pointed out.

"Is that why you're in such a hurry, when you have so many doubts?" Jasper asked.

I gaped at him for nearly a minute. I hadn't realized he'd seen so much_._ I was embarrassed for myself when I admitted, "It felt like the only way to start our lives together, and I wanted—want—that. Very much."

"But you still aren't sure."

"I don't think I'm ready to marry him," I said before I even realized words were coming out of my mouth. My eyes flew to Jaspers, wide and horrified. I couldn't believe I told him that.

"Then why haven't you called off the wedding?" Jasper asked. His nonchalance in regard to the bomb I dropped on him right in the middle of the mall's food court helped me to regain some of my composure.

I looked back down at the cold plate of fries sitting in front of me. "Because I'm a terrible person."

"It's only going to hurt more, the longer you wait. What is that expression you have, about the band-aid?"

"Ripping off the band-aid," I answered with a sigh.

"I never understood that one."

"It's like—" I glanced up to see Jasper smirking at me. "Never mind."

"What is this really about, deep down?" Jasper asked. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "Is this about him, you, or your relationship? Which is the part that gives you all these doubts?"

I didn't have to think about how to answer that one. "Me."

"What about you?"

I pulled my lip between my teeth and stared out the windows lining the food court. I had no idea how to verbalize the churning in the pit of my stomach. Eventually I settled on something broad, but true. "I'm not sure who I am, as a person, by myself. I'm scared that if I'm not defined, then I could turn into something I don't want to be. I don't want to wind up like Bree, or like Victoria. I don't even want to be like Edward. I just… I want to be able to look at myself and say that I'm still me; only I don't think I know who I am. Not yet."

"Reasoning like that is why we all have such a hard time remembering that you are so very young sometimes." When I looked back at Jasper he had that sad smile on his face again.

"Edward's going to be so upset with me. After all we went through… and Alice is already shopping for flowers and my Mom and Phil already booked their tickets."

"Forget about that," Jasper said. "Stop thinking about what everyone else expects of you. Stop asking yourself what they would want you to do. What do _you_ want?"

This question was easier to answer than it should have been. "I think I want to get away for a while. I need a break, some downtime, to process everything that's happened."

"You are aware that may be easier said than done." Jasper leveled me with a heavy look.

I sighed and looked away. "I know. The Volturi―"

"The Volturi will be satisfied enough with the news of your change. If that's not something you are ready for, then getting away becomes less of a vacation, and more of a hide-out. I don't know when they would decide to come checking on you. Under normal circumstances they would give you years―but Jane was far too interested in your status. They're curious, and it goes against their nature to let you continue to escape their ruling."

Jasper paused before adding, "Given the situation you are in, I think leaving town is probably a very good idea. At least, until you come to terms with becoming one of us, or hiding for the rest of your life. The Volturi are reasonable, but they've already done you one favor, which is more than the vast majority of humans receive."

"I kind of worked myself into a corner, I think."

"Yeah, a little bit." Jasper said. "I'm not saying that it would be impossible, just that if you want to get away for a while, then we're going to have to be cautious. I can't in good conscience stick you in your truck with a handful of cash and tell you to drive in whichever direction you wish."

"Alright," I agreed after a moment. I was beyond ready for a change in subject. "May I ask you something, now?"

"Of course," Jasper said with a short wave of his arm to continue.

"Before, Edward never wanted me alone with you. Especially after, well, you know. What's changed since then? Why aren't you keeping your distance anymore?"

"You are not the only one who learned something from that battle. I, for example, learned that control is not as simple as the presence of blood." Jasper nodded toward my arm as he spoke.

"I was bleeding," I realized. "You touched me…" It was like seeing the entire scene from a new angle. The way Edward had held Jasper's gaze for just long enough that I noticed, the near caution in Jasper's stance. If I hadn't have been there, I might not have believed it.

"Yes."

"I'm so proud of you," I blurted out. I had the intense desire to give Jasper a hug. He probably wouldn't take that very well.

"I don't need your pride, but thank you all the same."

A quiet spread between us, and I found myself staring out the window again, contemplating all we'd talked about. It was hard to wrap my head around. It was all so frustrating and confusing; I didn't know what to think about any of it. I felt trapped.

"I didn't even want to get married in the first place." I crossed my arms and glared at the table top. It wasn't really true—but there was a variant I hadn't ever seen before that was now staring me in the face. I wanted to be with Edward forever, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to be frozen as who I was now.

Jasper chuckled. "I know. He really shouldn't have kept asking, but Edward's always been a persistent thing."

"Like Alice," I asked, smiling for the first time in what seemed like hours.

"Exactly like Alice." Jasper laughed. "I have to admit, though, I quite enjoy thwarting her."

"You'll have to teach me how to do that, sometime."

Jasper grinned, but before he could reply he was cut off.

"You two are taking far too long," Alice said from behind me, and I spun in my seat to see her standing with her hands on her hips and an amused smile on her face. I had no doubt she'd planned her return to coincide with this moment. "Really, how long did you expect to keep me waiting for?"

"My sincerest apologies, ma'am," Jasper drawled. I'd never seen him smile so wide in all the time I'd known him.

"Good talk?" Alice asked, taking the seat next to mine.

Jasper shrugged, that fond little smile still on his face. I appreciated that he wasn't going to give her specifics.

"Excellent." Alice bumped her shoulder against mine and grinned. She looked pleased with herself; she always did when one of her plans went off without a hitch.

"You're not mad?" I whispered. "You don't hate me?"

Alice threw her arms around me in a tight hug and whispered back, "Never."

"What about all the wedding stuff?" I hated that she'd already spent so much money on an event that didn't look like it was going to happen.

"I didn't buy much," Alice promised. "And it's all returnable, so don't worry."

"I didn't know you even understood the concept of returns."

Alice laughed and pinched my arm in retaliation before taking my hand in hers. "I've had to learn a lot since meeting you."

"Have you seen how it's going to turn out?" I asked. "Is it all going to be okay?"

"You know that's not how it works. You have to make up your mind first, and I wouldn't tell you even if I did know."

It wasn't what I'd wanted to hear, but I could grudgingly accept that she was right. "I guess I have to talk to him, huh?"

"That would be a good start." Alice squeezed my hand and stood, pulling me up with her. We started making our way back to the car, Jasper once again falling into his role of sentinel a few paces behind us.

At the Mercedes I paused with my fingers on the door handle and turned to Jasper. "Thanks. For letting me talk, for listening."

"Anytime." Jasper climbed into the backseat in one smooth motion, and I took my seat up front. The drive back to Forks couldn't seem longer, and still it went by far too quick.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Beta'd by the ever so lovely sweeneyanne, and preread by aerobee82 and AlexisDanaan.**

**Don't own Twilight**

* * *

**Chapter 3**** - From Now On**

There was a fierce part of me that wanted to put off talking to Edward for at least a few more days—but when we returned to the Cullen house and Edward smiled at Esme's mention of wedding decorations I knew I couldn't leave him hanging. Edward was genuinely excited to get married, and it was unfair and cruel of me not to tell him I was having second thoughts. I should have said something the moment I began doubting this path we were on.

I had nothing to add to the conversation, so when he offered, I let Edward drive me home. It was obvious he knew all was not well.

"How was your shopping trip? Did you enjoy yourself?" Edward asked as he pulled the car out of the driveway and sped toward my house. The rain fell harder against the windshield as he accelerated, and I found myself watching the little drops go running down the glass before being swept away by the wipers with a near obsessive zeal.

"It was good," I answered, unsure of how much I should give away. I didn't want to lie to him. "I got to talk to Jasper, which was nice."

"And he behaved himself?"

I shot a glare Edward's way, only to find a smile on his face. He was teasing me. "Of course he did. I hadn't realized how far he's come."

"He has done exceptionally well lately," Edward agreed. "What did the two of you talk about?"

This was where it started to get tricky. I looked out the window at the scenery rushing by and tried to come up with a way to start the conversation I knew we needed to have. "He gave me some advice, about how to deal with what happened in the clearing."

I caught Edward nod out of the corner of my eye. "I know that has been hard on you."

"Among other things," I said.

Edward didn't say anything else until he shifted the car into park in my driveway. He reached over to grab my hand, and when I looked at him, his eyes held nothing but concern. "Are you okay?"

It was irrational, but I was saddened by Edward's need to ask. It could have been that Edward didn't know me as well as we both assumed, or maybe I was better at hiding than I thought. Both avenues were ones to consider, but that would have to come later. My attention shifted back to the question at hand, and in the interest of full-disclosure I answered, "No."

"Should I be worried?" Edward asked, and I didn't have the courage to tell him that he should.

I pushed the car door open without waiting for Edward, and started making my way to the front door, knowing he would follow. Once we were standing in the kitchen I found myself at a loss; I didn't know where to go. I didn't want to do this in my bedroom. I didn't really want to do this in my house at all, but I figured that it was better to ensure he had an escape if he needed it.

"We have to talk," I started lamely.

Edward regarded me for a moment before taking a seat at the kitchen table, directing me to sit across from him. The churning in my stomach eased a bit with the realization that he was going to take this seriously.

I hadn't been prepared for how hard it was to say, "I'm not ready to get married."

Edward's face fell for a split-second before he regained his composure. I hated that he was able to do that so easily. Edward took a deep breath, and folded his hands in his lap. "Have you decided you would rather build a life with Jacob?"

I was stunned by the question, but only because I hadn't considered that he might ask it. "No, that's not it at all. I love you very much. I'm… I'm not ready."

"Then tell me what's wrong, and I will fix it." I thought I could see a hint of desperation in his eyes, but it was always so hard to tell with Edward.

"That's kind of the issue, right there. I'm starting to think that you shouldn't be the one to fix all my problems. I need to figure out how to do it on my own. Everything that happened, after the fight, during the fight—it makes me worry that if I move forward with you without being sure of who I am, then I could lose myself."

Something in the mask that so often adorned Edward's face fell in that moment, and when he spoke next he sounded sincerely concerned in a way I had never heard before. I'd heard Edward's urgency, his worry, but never like this. "I want to tell you that I would never allow that to happen, that no matter what I will always hold you steady, but you know how I feel about this step we're taking. I want it. I want it more than anything, but Bella, you are too good for this life we live."

"I don't want to hear about how you think yourself a monster again, Edward. You're not. I'm just scared, and I… I need a break. I need some time to myself.

"I need to let it all sink in, I think, and I need to learn how to do that on own instead of always leaning on you." The words started gushing forth quicker, but still more painful. My eyes watered a bit as I tried to explain. "What sort of a life could we have if you're always sheltering me? Right now I feel like I'm a shadow, like there's this ghost of me that hasn't ever been given the chance to solidify and become a whole person."

I watched as Edward took two painfully slow breaths. His eyebrows furrowed by the smallest amount; I wasn't sure how I even noticed.

"I'm so sorry." It felt like cutting my heart out of my chest.

"This space you need," Edward said carefully. "Are we talking a few weeks? A year? Or is it something more akin to indefinite?"

"I don't know."

"Are we… is this it for us, then?"

I shook my head and smiled at him as best I could. I couldn't imagine that I'd ever be able to say that Edward and I were over, not definitively. There wasn't anything in the world that could make me stop loving him.

"I don't want you to have any doubts," Edward said. He reached out across the table to squeeze my hand. "I never want you to wonder if you made the right choice, so if time is what you need, then that is what you will get. You have to know I could never deny you anything."

That was not at all how I'd expected him to react, though I couldn't have said I hadn't hoped for it. Deep down I knew that Edward loved me, and that all he wanted was for me to be happy—but there's a difference between knowing something and betting on it, and I hadn't allowed myself much confidence.

"Okay," Edward said, nodding to himself. "Alright. Do what you need to, and when―if―you decide that you're ready, I'll be here."

I couldn't stand to look at him. I'd almost hoped he'd be furious; that he would rant and rage and make me feel horrible for what I was doing to him―but I supposed that this was yet another difference in our characters. Edward knew who and what he was, and what he wanted.

I took a deep breath. No matter how much this hurt, I had to make sure he understood exactly what it was I was telling him. "I don't think you should wait. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know anything right now."

"I have nothing but time. There is one thing in this world that I care about above all others, and that is you. I want you to be happy, that is all I've ever needed from you. I can exist so long as I know that you are out there somewhere, with a smile on your face."

"I'd like to say that I hope we can still be friends," I confessed, "But I don't think we ever were before."

"Not really, no."

"I'm so sorry, Edward." Repeating it didn't help any.

He seemed to consider his next question carefully. "Will I still be able to see you?"

It took a huge amount of effort not to react to that question, because I knew without a doubt that it had never been me who had any say in whether or not Edward saw me. That inequality was yet another thing piled onto the heap of reasons why I felt something between us was out of balance. I wanted to be his equal, and I couldn't be that right now—not when I couldn't even imagine myself as such.

"I'm going to be leaving town for a while." I couldn't look at him when I said it.

"Bella, no," Edward protested. "It's not safe for you. The Volturi will be expecting to hear from us soon."

I wasn't sure if I should tell Edward that Jasper had already agreed to help, but I couldn't keep it from him. I didn't want Edward to worry, and I didn't want to be anything less than truthful with him. There wasn't going to be any way I could stay in Forks after this; there were too many memories, and too much that could tempt me into giving in when I knew I should stand firm. I tried to choose my words carefully, but didn't fare so well. "I have some help."

"This is what Jasper was worried about," Edward said, seemingly to himself. "I'd wondered…"

"I shouldn't have talked to him about it before you." I felt terrible.

"No, no." Edward shook his head and waved off my apology. "I know that sometimes you need to talk things out, and Jasper is a very good listener. I'm not angry."

"I kind of wish you would be." I was such a selfish person. Here I was, calling off our engagement without warning, and all I could think was that I wouldn't be able to stand it if he up and disappeared again. It was such a perverse double standard, to want to keep him in Forks while I fled, so I'd always know where he was. Just in case.

"Why?" Edward wondered. He stood and was around the table in the time it took me to blink. He watched me for a moment before kneeling in front of me. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm scared. I don't want to lose you from my life."

"I'm not going anywhere," Edward promised, immediately understanding my meaning. "I swore I'd never do that to you again, and I meant it."

"I can't ask you to do that. I'm the one who's leaving, and I don't want you to waste away, waiting here for me. I want for you the same thing you want for me. Edward, I only want for you to be happy."

"I am happy with you," Edward said, quietly enough that I wondered if he had meant me to hear it.

His intention didn't matter; I couldn't let that slide, even though I felt like I deserved it. "That's really unfair of you to say."

"I know." Edward shook his head and leaned forward to cup my face in his hands.

"I don't want you sitting around, waiting for me," I repeated.

"You don't really get a choice, there." Edward smiled. I didn't think he was even bothered by the prospect. I felt a little ill. "There will always be a door open between us. I promised you that, once. If you ever need me, for anything, all you have to do is call. It doesn't matter what the terms are. I'm always going to be here for you."

"That goes both ways," I answered, even though I wasn't sure if my offer held nearly as much weight as his. Edward didn't really need me for anything, not like I needed him. I pulled the ring off my finger and held it out to him on my palm. "This is yours."

"No," Edward insisted, closing my fingers around the cooling metal. "This always belonged to you. Keep it."

"I can't." I pulled my hand from his, and set the ring on the table when he wouldn't take it from me. "I can't keep this. Please don't try to make me."

Edward stared at the ring with an intensity I'd come to know well over the course of our relationship—though I was surprised that he plucked the ring from the table without another attempt to talk me into keeping it. Maybe he knew that was one battle he would never win. Edward stood, and crossed the kitchen to lean against the counter.

"You're determined to do this?" Edward asked, sounding conflicted. He waited for me to nod before continuing. "I don't like the idea that if you're in trouble, I won't be able to help."

His argument bothered me, because this was exactly the sort of thing I'd been talking about—but I couldn't fault Edward for that. There was a big difference between the real world and the vampire world, and the fact of the matter was that I couldn't possibly fend for myself in the latter. Until I was changed, I would always need someone to fight those battles for me.

For the first time since Edward and I returned from Italy, I acknowledged the shift my priorities had taken in the light of this unwavering future of mine. In all the time I'd waffled back and forth over where my relationship with Edward was headed, I no longer hung my change on that decision. It wasn't all about Edward and being with him forever, not anymore. Now there were dozens of other factors, and there was no going back. I would never be able to repress all I'd learned since coming to Forks, and I couldn't allow the possibility that Charlie would not be safe because I knew so many things that I shouldn't. It wasn't just my life on the line.

It wasn't going to be soon, but some day, when I had myself sorted out, I would have to hold Carlisle to his word. I wasn't going to spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder and hiding behind the Cullens, no matter what happened between Edward and me. It was nice to have perspective on something, one less thing to worry about.

I supposed Edward must have taken my silence to mean that my safety and the part he played in it wasn't something I wanted to talk about right then. "Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"Go somewhere fun." Edward smiled; I wondered if he meant it.

"Like Vegas?" I asked, teasing him.

"Maybe work your way up to Vegas. And don't go with Emmett. He'll get you kicked out of every casino in the city."

That sounded just like Emmett. "Are you speaking from experience?"

Edward's smile widened a little, and this time I thought that it was probably genuine. "Perhaps."

"That's a story I've got to hear someday."

"I'll never tell," Edward answered playfully. We'd unconsciously wandered closer to each other, and by the time I noticed it he was close enough that I could reach out to touch him. For nearly half a minute everything felt exactly like it had always been between us—but then Edward's expression grew somber. "I know I have no right to ask this of you, not after what I did, but when you decide to leave, will you allow me to say goodbye?"

This time it was me who had to force a smile. "Of course."

"I will always be here for you. In whatever way you need." Edward pressed a lingering kiss against my forehead and pulled away.

By the time I managed to focus through the stream of tears coursing down my cheeks, he was gone. The world felt much more frightening without him. I climbed the stairs and went to my room on auto-pilot.

I wanted so badly to regret what I'd done, but even through all the hurt and misery I knew it had been for the best. Edward deserved so much better than a teenage girl who couldn't even get it together enough to figure out what her place in the world was. Before I had said it was with him, that he was my anchor and all of the reasons why; the thought left such a bitter taste in my mouth. Edward should have a partner, someone who could stand on their own and be at his side instead of two paces behind him. If we were going to end up together, then that was the life I wanted us to have. Deep down, I thought Edward wanted that, too.

I'd thought that believing I had done what was for the best would have made it hurt less—but I couldn't imagine that it did. It felt like seams were splitting in my chest; like I had ripped away my insides and left them to be trampled. I was selfishly thankful for Edward's ability to control himself so well; I didn't want to know how badly I'd hurt him. I wondered if it was worse for him, or if his determination to do whatever was necessary for me to live the happiest life possible somehow superseded his pain.

I didn't deserve his understanding, or his devotion. Not for the first time, I thought I was a terrible human being. There were so many things I would have done differently if I'd had the chance.

I pulled my suitcase from the back of my closet, and set it right in front of the doors. I didn't open it, didn't gather up clothes to throw them inside; I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at worn leather casing.

Maybe Jacob had the right idea about everything—just leave.

It had to have been hours that I stared at that suitcase. Eventually my weight shifted to the floor. I crossed my legs and leaned back against the side of the bed, and traced every crack in the leather with my gaze, noted every worn patch. I memorized the texture and the way my lamp reflected off it. I could barely tear my eyes away when a knock sounded from my door. I assumed it was Charlie.

"Come in." The door opened to reveal Alice instead. The relief that welled up in me was incredible, but deep down I had worried that this break-up was going to fare much as the last. There was no lack of relief in my voice when I whispered, "Hi."

"Charlie let me in," Alice said by way of explanation as she settled next to me on the floor. "I wasn't sure if you would want some company. Jasper said I should give you some space, but he always says that, and—"

I interrupted by leaning my head on her shoulder. "I'm glad you're here."

"I know that must have been so hard for you. I can't really imagine."

"What was it like, to know when and where and who, without a doubt?" I wondered. I had the feeling I wasn't making a whole lot of sense, but Alice understood the question.

"It drove me crazy, the waiting." She laughed and slung her arm around my back. "But it was nice, being able to be so confident that it was meant to happen like that."

"You always have hated waiting."

"This may surprise you, but I am not a very patient person." I let out strained chuckle, and Alice hugged me tighter. "There, I knew I could get a laugh out of you."

I steadied my resolve to ask, "How is Edward doing?"

"He'll be alright," Alice insisted. "Carlisle and Emmett took him hunting, and to talk. Don't worry about Edward. Like you, he has people who love him and want to help him."

"I feel bad that you're with me, instead of with him."

"Why?" Alice wondered, sounding genuinely curious. "You're my best friend, why wouldn't I have come?"

"But he's your brother."

Alice leaned her cheek against the top of my head and laughed. "As if that could compare."

Alice didn't make another attempt to talk; instead she sat with me and let me try to sort through my feelings on my own. It was a poorly disguised request when I finally said, "I wish I could know for sure if I'm doing the right thing."

"I see you've started to think about what's next," Alice said, nodding at my suitcase. I was used to her evasions by now, but still, I wished she'd have mercy and be more forthcoming about the things she'd seen in my future.

"Does it make me a horrible person? All I want to do is run away."

"I don't think you could be a truly horrible person if you tried."

"Feels like I'm trying pretty hard sometimes."

Alice shook her head and pulled one of my hands into hers. "You're doing what feels right for you, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's important that you take care of yourself, and I know that you want to make it so everyone is happy, but sometimes that's not possible. No one faults you for your uncertainties, they're your right."

"I just feel…" I trailed off, not sure what I wanted to say.

"It's okay that you don't know, it really is," Alice said, but her assurances did little to comfort me. She sat up straight and angled herself to face me more while she waited for me to talk.

"Stupid," I decided. "I feel so stupid."

Alice stared at me for an uncomfortable span of time, as if she were struggling to decide something. She narrowed her eyes and asked, "Would you like for me to be completely honest with you? The way Jasper would be?"

"Yes." I found the prospect of ripping through all the sugar coating and coddling to be immensely appealing.

"I think that if you had gone ahead and gotten married, then Edward would have always worried that he took you out of the world far too soon. He would have wondered if he did you wrong, if you fully understood the consequences of the decisions you were making. He wants what is best for you, and he knows that sometimes what's best is to step aside.

"I think that after long enough, you would have resented his self-loathing, and he wouldn't ever be sure that you picked him, and not the appeal of love." Alice gave me a stern look as she finished, and I wondered if this really was all speculation, or if she was trying to give me information about the path I'd been on without dealing in absolutes.

"Do you think that's what I was doing?"

"You know there's no way for me to answer that," Alice chided. "The question is what do you think, and if you're not sure, then you need to find out."

"I love him," I said quietly, and the words didn't feel any less true than they ever had. Maybe that meant something.

"I know you do. He loves you, too. So much."

"It feels so wrong, to put everything on hold when we feel so strongly about each other." I hadn't really meant to say it out loud.

"Sometimes the best thing to do is to take a step back." Alice shrugged. "I don't have any more of the answers than you do."

"I just wish I knew what I was doing, or even what I want to get out of this whole mess. but I don't have the faintest idea. I have no idea how I want this to end." It was all so confusing and frustrating. I leaned forward to rest my forehead against my bent knees and tried to focus on breathing.

"I think you're doing exceptionally well. You shouldn't hold yourself up to such impossible standards—you can't really compare yourself to vampires."

"I know," I admitted. "But it's hard not to sometimes. I hate being the weak link. I hate having to be protected and watched over, and I hate that so much of my relationship with Edward is—was—based on that. It's not right, and it's not fair to him."

"How many more times do I have to tell you that he understands before you'll believe me?" Alice asked, but her playful question only brought more worries to the surface.

I turned my head to watch her as I asked my next question. I dreaded her answer. "How about the family? They probably all hate me now."

"Nobody hates you."

"I find that extremely hard to believe."

"Really," Alice insisted. "I don't think any of us could say that if we were in your position we wouldn't, at the very least, consider doing the same things you are. You deserve to be certain of your path."

"Thanks, for being here," I said. It wasn't nearly enough to express how thankful I was for her, but I wanted to believe that Alice understood, all the same. Without her I probably would have gone into a tail-spin, would have sat and stared at the walls without any idea which way the surface was.

"I can see that you'll be using it soon," Alice said, nodding toward my suitcase. "But don't you dare start packing yet. Jasper needs time to get a plan together."

"Any ideas on how that's going?"

"Oh, you know Jasper. He'll get it worked out." Alice stood and leaned down to grab my arm and pull me to my feet. She enveloped me in a tight hug and whispered, "It's all going to be okay. You'll see."

I nodded, not because I believed her, but because I wanted so much to.

"Try to get some sleep," Alice said. "It won't all look so glum in the morning."

"You're a really good friend, Alice." I wasn't sure I'd ever told her that before.

"You are, too." Alice squeezed my arm and started making her way out of my room. She paused in the doorway and said, "It really is going to be okay. There isn't anything that can keep you down for long."

I didn't argue, but I was left laying in bed for hours after she left, wondering if maybe Alice was being more optimistic than was warranted. I'd fallen apart so many times, had been crushed beyond repair, and the only thing that had been able to save me was Edward. I wished I knew how it was going to work out this time. If, without him, I was even capable of saving myself.

I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, with nothing but the memory of Edward's presence to keep me company. By midnight the walls had started closing in, and I couldn't stand it anymore. There were too many reminders in too small of a space. The past hours had bordered on hell. All those thoughts of Edward had beat at my determination until I'd nearly given in, and I knew that I couldn't. I had to see this through.

As I made my way down the stairs and to the kitchen I caught sight of the glowing television, and heard the quiet hum of dialogue and a laugh track. Apparently, Charlie couldn't sleep either.

I filled a glass of water, and headed into the living room. I had no desire to be alone.

"I was starting to worry that you'd never come out of your room again," Charlie said, glancing my way as I curled up on the couch and pulled the blanket resting on the back over me. He was watching reruns of some sitcom that I could only remember seeing in passing.

"I thought about it."

"What's going on? Alice looked pretty upset when she came by." Charlie sounded worried.

This was probably another situation where it would be best to just spit it out. "Edward and I have decided not to get married."

I expected Charlie to smile, or maybe gloat a little bit, because he'd never been on board with the whole wedding thing; instead he leaned back in his chair a bit and regarded me with an indiscernible caution. Charlie and Edward were a lot alike in that way; neither gave away anything they didn't want to.

"Alright. What happened? Do I need to get out my shotgun?" The ease with which he asked bordered on disturbing.

"Nothing happened," I said quickly. "It was… it was going too fast. I'm not ready for it."

Charlie was silent for what felt like an hour, though it couldn't have been more than a minute. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"Huh?" It was the absolute last thing I thought he'd say.

"You just never seemed all that excited about it." Charlie shrugged and took a sip from his beer. "You're a lot like your mom in that way."

My heart dropped into my stomach. I didn't want to tell him that Renee and I had more in common than just our aversion to marriage.

"What? What else?" Charlie asked. He leaned forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees. He was back in detective mode.

That suitcase upstairs felt like a bomb waiting to go off, and I didn't know if I had it in me to warn Charlie, because if anybody could talk me out of leaving, it was him. I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath. This was the moment to tell him. There was no letting it pass by, no matter how much I wanted to postpone the inevitable.

"About that," I started. I tried to force a steady breath down—it didn't work so well. "I've been thinking about spending some time away this summer."

"Bella—"

I had to interrupt him before he could talk me out of it. "I know it's sudden but I need some space, from everything."

"Where is it that you want to go?"

"Alice and I are going to go see some friends of hers." It was close enough to the truth.

"Who are these friends?" Charlie asked. He was suspicious.

This time I couldn't have told him the truth if I wanted to. I didn't even know which direction we were going to be driving in. If I couldn't tell him the truth, at least I could keep from adding another lie onto the pile. "Some girls she met in Los Angeles, when she was living there last year."

"You didn't really think I was going to be okay with this, did you?" Charlie asked, disapproval and disbelief thick in the air. This conversation was quickly spinning beyond my control.

"I thought you would understand," I said. My voice was low and accusatory, blaming him when really; I'd done everything I could to make sure he never saw it coming. I'd known he wasn't going to be happy with what I'd decided.

"If you want me to understand, then you have to _explain_," Charlie countered.

I had to force breaths deep in my lungs and count to three before expelling the air to keep from exploding all over the living room. "I don't— I…" I had no idea how to put something like this into words. "I need to get away. I need space. I need to _breathe_. I'm not freaking out; I know what I'm doing."

"You are not behaving like someone who has their head on straight," Charlie pointed out. "Don't think that I can't see that you've been having a hard time. I don't like you making decisions like this when you're struggling to keep it together."

"I'm _not_ okay._"_ I hadn't meant to say it so forcefully, but there was no stopping the words spewing out of me. "But I'm trying to do something about it, and you standing there demanding that I explain what's wrong isn't helping!'

"Bella—"

"_No._" I could barely breathe. "No. I… Charlie, I'm going to be fine. But I need some time to myself."

"What about school?" Charlie asked, changing tactics.

This was an angle I hadn't considered, though there was only one answer to give Charlie. Even if it turned out I didn't head to Alaska at the end of the summer, I still needed the exit college would grant me. "I'm not sure. I'd like to go. I… I think I will. Not in the fall, but maybe for the winter semester, if they'll let me defer."

Charlie inhaled sharply, and kept a steady eye on me. "Promise me you will come home."

"What are you—"

"_Promise,"_ he insisted. "I won't get in your way. I'll let you run around and do what you have to. Go off and discover yourself—but you swear to me you'll come back, even if it's only to let me know you're alright. You go do your thing, and then you come right back here before you head off to college."

Charlie's lips were drawn tight, his eyes were narrowed. When I was a little girl I used to call it his 'cop-face'. It was still amazingly effective.

"I promise."

Charlie sighed. "I don't like this. How long do I have to try to talk you out of it?"

I wasn't sure, so I pulled the best answer I could out of thin air. I didn't want to overestimate how much time I had left. "I don't know. Alice is taking care of all the plans, you know how she is. Maybe sometime next week."

"Jesus, Bella. It's not a whole lot to ask that you don't spring these things on me."

"I'll call," I said, hoping to appease Charlie, at least a little. The concession did nothing to quell the guilt roiling in my stomach. He was right; I'd known I should have talked to him about this as soon as I'd decided.

"Damn right, you will." Charlie shook his head. "Every week. No, every _day_. I want to know where you are."

"Alright," I agreed. It was the least I could do.

Charlie sighed. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"I promise." It felt like I should go a little further, though. "I won't leave without telling you."

"Okay." I didn't think he believed me, but with my track record, who could blame him.

I'd thought I'd feel better, lighter, once the air was cleared, but still there was nothing but the static hissing through my confused mind. Charlie cast another worried glance in my direction. I blamed exhaustion for what I asked next. "Have you ever seen someone die?"

Charlie gave me a sharp look, his eyes wide and probing. "If I wasn't worried about you before, I sure as hell am now."

"I was just curious," I said, trying to pass off the question as innocent.

Charlie saw right through it, but he answered anyway. "Yes."

"What happened?"

"It's not something I like to talk about, Bella." He paused and narrowed his eyes. Charlie wasn't kidding around. He turned off the television and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he studied me curled up on the couch. The way I'd phrased things, he probably thought I'd witnessed a murder. He wasn't wrong. "Tell me what's going on. Right now."

I couldn't tell him the truth, but I wondered how close I could get to it.

"Alice had a friend, in Mississippi. I met her a few times when she came to visit. She died a couple weeks ago. Everyone said it was unavoidable. That she wound up in a situation she couldn't get out of—but none of that is really what's eating at me. It's that all these people who say there was nothing to be done, they don't care that she's gone. They don't remember what she was before she fell apart. They're sad, but it doesn't affect them like it should; like I think it should. I don't understand how they can keep going with their lives like she was never there in the first place."

By the end I wasn't even sure who I was talking about; Bree, Riley, and all the others whose lives had been stolen from them—the first spun into the next until they melded together into one tragedy in my mind. I found it easier to believe Victoria got exactly what she deserved when I thought about it that way.

Charlie didn't say anything, I wasn't sure he even knew what I was talking about. I leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling as words unbidden came flowing out of me. "When it happened—when I heard about it—it was like the whole world started quaking. I knew her. I'd met her, talked to her. She had so much ahead of her, and now it's all gone. She's gone, and the world just kept on spinning."

"And then what?" Charlie asked.

"And then I wondered what I would feel like, if I knew I was going to die tomorrow. I don't think I'd want to look back on my life and know that it ends here. This isn't the person I want to be when it all comes crashing down." I'd never been so honest with anyone in my life, and it was liberating.

The look on Charlie's face was one I hadn't ever seen before. I squirmed in my seat under his gaze, the ticking of the wall clock echoed from the kitchen. It felt like he was waiting for me to say something else, but I didn't know what he could expect me to say after that. Confessions were exhausting.

Just when I thought I might lose my mind Charlie nodded, and relaxed a little.

"What?" I asked. The question was easier now that his attention was divided.

"Nothing," Charlie said. He glanced back up and frowned. "I'm just trying to figure out when in the hell you grew up."

"I'm eighteen." The argument was frail and withered, and went against everything I was starting to understand about myself. To Charlie it meant 'I'm eighteen. I'm an adult. How could you not see this?' To me the logic was simpler, flowed in the opposite direction. I'm only eighteen. I've only now started to figure out who I am. How did I never see how far I still have to go?

Charlie smiled and shook his head. Maybe it didn't mean much to him, either.

"I used to worry so much," Charlie said. "When your Mom left, I didn't know what to do. I could have fought her, I wanted to—but I never was sure if what I wanted to fight for was for you, or against her, so I tried to keep my head as level as I could.

"Letting her take you away, that was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and for a long time I wondered if it was right. Having you here, I wouldn't give it up for the world. And not just because I missed you; because I got to see that I made the right decision. She did real good with you."

Charlie's words stir something in me, and for the first time since this nightmare began I felt proud of myself. This time I didn't shatter into a thousand pieces; I could stand tall enough to say that I'd beaten some of the demons back.

"I'm still worried about you," Charlie said after a moment.

I whispered back, only half hoping he wouldn't hear me, "I'm a little worried about me, too."

"It just takes time, Bells." I wasn't sure which of the myriad of topics Charlie was referring to. Maybe all of them. "Anything else you want to drop on me while we're at it?"

There actually was. Now that we'd started talking it was hard to stop, but there were some things I could never tell Charlie. "Nothing else. I promise."

"Alright," Charlie agreed, turning the television back on.

I drew the blanket tighter around myself and stared at the television until the colors and lights ran together, and I finally drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Beta'd by sweeneyanne and pre-read by aerobee82 & AlexisDanaan. They need obnoxious amounts of kisses. *MWAH***

**Don't own Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**** - Telling Truths**

One week was my limit. I couldn't stand it anymore. I simply could not deal with the knowledge that Edward was a fifteen minute drive away, being perfectly understanding, and not hating me for being such a selfish and fickle child. I'd lied to him, kissed Jacob, and then pretended that everything was perfectly okay for three weeks while his sister planned our wedding—and I could not understand how he wasn't furious with me for it.

I couldn't sleep without him, and that deep-seated need to have Edward in order to manage one of the most basic human functions was going to drive me insane.

The steady stream of Cullens showing up at my house did little to ease the tension I felt. They'd all stopped by, some more than others. Alice came every day but one; Jasper was with her more often than not. Emmett, Carlisle, Esme—they'd all been over for various stretches of time. Even Rosalie had perched on the very edge of the couch and watched a movie with me and Emmett one day.

I could only assume they were trying to show me that just because Edward and I had stepped back didn't mean they would all disappear from my life. It had probably been Alice's idea. I appreciated the gesture, but as much as I longed for company I yearned for space. I was starting to think that it was impossible to find a balance that I found tolerable for more than a few hours.

I'd pulled my suitcase from the back of my closet last week, and had stared at it for at least ten minutes every day since. Today, I threw it open on my bed and started piling clothes inside. I didn't care that it wasn't all going to fit. Concepts like logic and space couldn't possibly override my roaring instinct to flee.

Five minutes, six pairs of pants, a dozen shirts, and countless socks went piling up. And then I kept going. At some point I lost what little control I had, and found myself unplugging my CD player and tossing it on top of the mountain. Books. The entire contents of my dresser. I only came to my senses and realized nearly everything I owned was scattered over my bed when the sound of tapping against my window startled me back into reality. Jasper was right outside, and he looked pissed.

"Shit."

"That's right, shit," Jasper said as he eased the window up in the frame—I hadn't been able to stand having it open since ending things with Edward. "You better be thankful that I managed to talk Alice out of coming. What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm _leaving_," I answered with as much force and certainty as I could. I moved to continue emptying my bookcase, but Jasper planted himself in my way.

"We talked about this."

"I can't stay here anymore. I can't stand it. I'm suffocating." I couldn't _breathe_, not under this massive landslide crashing over me. There was too much; Edward and the future, that girl's screaming still ringing in my ears. I couldn't take it, and for a brief moment I absolutely despised Jasper for expecting me to.

"What are you going to tell your father?" Jasper asked, choosing to ignore the spike of hatred he must have felt from me. "Don't you think he deserves better than to come home and find you missing?"

With two questions Jasper had deflated everything in me that was convinced bolting without a word was a fantastic idea. When I finally answered him my words were tired, and unsure. "I don't know what to do." The strength went out of my legs, and I sat on the edge of my bed with all the grace of falling. "You didn't see him. He didn't fight; he didn't argue… he just let me go. I feel so horrible. This town stinks of him. I can't sleep here. I hate that he doesn't hate me."

Jasper considered the scene lay out before him as he settled into the rocking chair. I must have looked disastrous; crying and messy, sitting in a mountain of clothes and books. "All Edward wants is for you to be happy. He may have only now started coming around to the idea that maybe you could have had that as a vampire, with him, but in the end he is willing to sacrifice what he wants for what is best for you."

"I learned that lesson quite well, thank you," I replied, making sure to convey exactly how much I didn't appreciate those memories. I didn't want to think about the things Edward had done to set us back, not when I wanted to feel terrible about myself.

"I remember," Jasper said easily.

"Look, I've been enough trouble. I don't want to bother you. I'll go off and do my own thing, and that will be that. You shouldn't be taking my side over his."

"Who said anything about taking sides?" Jasper crossed his left leg over his knee.

"I don't want to cause trouble."

"You aren't." Jasper shrugged. "If you were, I would tell you so."

"But—"

"And if I didn't consider you someone worthy of my care, I wouldn't have offered to help. Edward is not upset that I am helping you—in fact, he is quite relieved. Your request is not unreasonable, nor is it unduly impractical. It is just going to take some strategy. Edward knows that trying to keep you here when you are so determined to leave is pointless and cruel, and he is thankful that there is someone willing to orchestrate your departure in a way that will keep you safe."

"What exactly is it that you're planning?" It seemed quite simple to me. Get in the car and drive. That's as far as my foresight went.

"There are two places I could take you, where I could trust that you will stay safe." Jasper chuckled to himself. "Although the first is not feasible in this situation. It could have worked if things were different, but certainly not here, not with you."

"Where?" I asked.

"Volterra."

Jasper was right, there wasn't anything in this world that could make me go back there willingly. "No."

"I know," Jasper said. I caught his eyes dart left and then right, and when he spoke again he leaned in closer, as if he were worried about being overheard. "I have a friend―"

"No way."

"Always such a smart-ass." Jasper grinned for a moment before his demeanor turned serious again. "As I was saying, I have a friend. He has agreed to look after you."

I scowled. I hated to be treated like a child in need of babysitting.

"I already called," Jasper continued, ignoring my displeasure. "We can leave as early as next Saturday."

My chest constricted for a moment, and I finally voiced the source of much of my anxiety. "The twelfth? Not a day later, please. I can't… I just can't."

Jasper's eyes flashed with something far to sympathetic for my liking, but it was gone in an instant. He set both feet on the floor and leaned forward. "I promise I will get you far outside the Washington border before the thirteenth."

Eight days. I could deal with that. It was better notice than I'd led Charlie to believe he'd have.

"You've been holding out on me until I told Charlie, haven't you?" I didn't know how I didn't see it before.

"No, we were waiting until the time was right. But you know it wouldn't have done anyone any good if Charlie was searching for you, too. Besides, you had some things you needed to work through."

"Who exactly is this guy who's agreed to keep an eye on me?" I asked suspiciously.

"Do you remember when I was telling you about the beginnings of my life as a vampire?" Jasper asked. He waited for me to nod before continuing. "Then you remember Peter."

"The man who convinced you to leave?"

"Yes."

I frowned, still unsure. I had hoped to be on my own, and I wasn't sure how much I liked the idea of being left alone with some strange man, friend of Jasper's or not.

"I know it isn't what you had in mind," Jasper said with an understanding nod. "But as far as options go, this is the best one. There are others you might feel more comfortable with, but if the Volturi do become curious during this interim, your best chance of staying under their radar is with Peter."

"Why?" I asked.

"Let's just say that he is quite adept at dealing with them." Jasper settled back in the rocking chair and smiled. "Don't worry. Peter knows the gist of what's happened, and he's willing to do this. He won't get in your way. Alice will stay with you, though, until you are settled."

Something prickled at the edge of my memory, something Jasper had already told me about this man we were discussing. It only took a quick recollection of the day Edward and I had skipped school and I learned about what had shaped Jasper into the sort of vampire who could plot the demise of an army to place what it was. "I thought Peter was married. To a woman named Charlotte."

"No," Jasper said, the corners of his lips tugged down. He chose his words carefully. "They never married. She isn't with him anymore."

"Oh." I didn't ask any more questions. I wanted to, but I knew that we were edging into too personal of a territory. Jasper wasn't going to disclose anything more; it wasn't my business.

Jasper switched back to the original topic we'd been talking about. "Alice and I are going to be leaving Forks for a while, too. I'm going to get things set up for us while she's with you."

Nausea rolled through me with his words; I hadn't known Jasper and Alice would have to leave, too.

Jasper regarded me for a moment and then chuckled. "Don't give me that look. This has little to do with you. Not letting Edward know where you are is a precautionary measure, yes, but we've been talking about taking some time to ourselves for a while now. So stop thinking that it's your fault."

"You're going through so much trouble for me."

"You would do the same for any of us," Jasper said.

"What am I going to tell Charlie?" I wondered aloud. I was starting to run out of excuses for all my absences, and this one would be considerably more difficult. I didn't know how long I would be gone for. "He wants an explanation for this, and I don't know how to give him one. He's asking so many questions."

"Whatever you want to. Though, if I could, I would like to make a suggestion." Jasper waited for me to nod before continuing. "Don't say you're leaving because of him, or because you don't like Forks. Make sure that he knows this is something you need to do for you. He'll understand, and it will be easier on him in the long run."

I forced the corners of my mouth into a smile. It was nice that Jasper thought of Charlie and his feelings, and this explanation fell into line with what I'd said already. "I don't want to lie to him anymore."

"You should tell him the truth," Jasper agreed. "At least, as close to the truth as you can get."

I looked to my right where my over-packed suitcase laid hidden under an almost comical amount of clothes. "It can't ever be easy, can it?"

"Running away from your problems isn't any easier."

"It sounds so appealing, though." I tapped my foot on the floor and tried to think of how to phrase my next question.

"Go ahead." Jasper laughed. "I already told you, it's quite difficult to offend me."

"Why are you helping me? We've never really even talked before all this started."

Jasper considered his answer for a few moments. "Because you've earned my respect. All that you've been through, all that is to come—you deserve a break, if only for a little while."

"What else?" I asked. I was starting to learn Jasper's cues. I wasn't sure he had actually had another reason, but I was pretty certain that all I had to do was ask, and he'd tell me if he did.

Jasper pursed his lips in a way I was starting to learn meant he wasn't sure how much information to divulge. Eventually he answered, "Because Alice says you will be back. She doesn't know when or why, or if things between you and Edward will work out—but she does know you come back."

"Does she still see me becoming a vampire?"

"She still sees that you will be turned, yes. The decision that accompanies that future for you—it has never faltered. Not once. Not when Edward left, not when he refused your request. Before Carlisle agreed and after you'd given up hope of ever seeing us again, that vision always remained."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"My opinion is that your future has been tied. The question of if you will be changed, it's no longer entirely yours. It will happen, eventually—but do not misinterpret, you chose this, too, and you can choose when."

I let out a breath. "The Volturi."

Jasper smiled. "Yes, and before that—even though she'll never admit it—was Alice."

"Yeah?" I asked. It was nice, hearing from an outside source that Alice had decided that she would do whatever it took to ensure I stayed happy, safe, and her friend.

"Of course. Alice…" Jasper trailed off thoughtfully and turned his head toward the window. "I don't think you'll ever understand how much your friendship means to her."

"The feeling is mutual."

"I know." Jasper stood, and took two steps closer. His gaze was unnerving, like no matter what I tried, I wouldn't be able to hide anything from him. I'd never realized how intimidating he could be. "Are you sufficiently—how do they say it—talked off the ledge?"

If his intention was to make me laugh, he succeeded, barely. "I suppose you could say that, but I can't promise you for how long."

"That's good enough." Jasper shrugged and unfolded himself from my rocking chair. "Are you going to be okay? I know you've been having trouble sleeping."

I was inexplicably irritated with the scope the Cullens had on my day to day life, but it was hard to be angry with Jasper for it. I knew he'd gotten his information from Alice. Still, it would be nice if the people in my life knew these sorts of things because I'd told them instead of through their supernatural advantages.

I couldn't keep the edge from my voice when I answered. "It's hard right now."

"I could help, if you would like."

This time I had an unmistakably hostile tone to my response. "I think what I'd like is to learn how to deal with this on my own, thanks."

Jasper nodded, and I thought, just for a second, that he'd been testing me. "Call if you need anything."

He slipped back out the window, and I glanced down at the overflowing suitcase sitting next to me on the bed. When I looked back toward the window it was already closed.

I didn't bother trying to put my clothes away neatly, or even in their proper places. There was an itch under my skin, a compulsion to put as much distance between myself and this room as I possibly could, and I knew that Jasper understood that. I trusted him to not make me wait too long, but as much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I had loose threads to wrap up here in Forks if I wanted to do this in a way that wouldn't cause more hurt.

The suitcase went back to its position on the floor in the front of the closet, and I found myself standing in the middle of my room staring at my bed with trepidation racing through me.

There was something about the sheets and the blankets and the way the pillows were positioned that made me feel sick. Every time I glanced away it was something else. More things Edward had touched, more promises we'd made and broken. His presence was permanent here, a constant reminder of all the times he'd smiled or frowned, and all the times he'd helped me sleep when I couldn't chase my own nightmares away.

When I was in my bedroom, the only thing I ever felt was confused and hurt. I wanted to give in, to call him and tell him I took it all back—but that wasn't really how I felt. It was easy to push away all the reasons why I felt the need for solitude when I was confronted with how lonely it was without Edward always there.

I waffled back and forth, never getting a hold on any one feeling or desire long enough to identify how prevalent it was. I never was any good at sticking to my guns. The one thing I'd been sure of had been Edward, and now that I'd managed to find doubts, even there, I was lost with no pole star.

I marched out of my room and grabbed a pillow from the hall closet. This time when I went down to the living room Charlie was already fast asleep, so I watched late night reruns curled up on the couch alone.

I woke up to the sound of the kitchen cabinets closing and Charlie shuffling around the kitchen. It couldn't have been later than five in the morning. The downside to sleeping in the living room was that Charlie was an early riser, and he seemed to be of the opinion that if I was going to sleep downstairs, and then I was going to have to deal with being woken up.

I pried my eyes open when the sound of his footsteps brought him into the living room. "Morning."

"Spent the night down here again?" Charlie asked. "What is that? Day three?"

"Seems that way." I hadn't been keeping count. It felt like I'd been sleeping on the couch forever. In reality, it had been off and on ever since the wedding was canceled. It was too hard sleeping in my room, in my bed, with all those memories of Edward. I supposed it always had been.

Charlie set a mug on the coffee table for me and took a seat in his chair. I'd always hated coffee—that is, until I'd started waking up at five in the morning after not being able to sleep until past midnight. I'd been living on the stuff for the past few days. When Charlie didn't turn up the sound on the television, or change the channel, I glanced over to find him staring at me with narrowed eyes. I'd been wondering how long he would let me keep silent; it seemed his patience had worn out.

"I'm trying not to read too much into this, Bells, but it's worrisome that you won't sleep in your bedroom anymore."

"It reminds me of Edward," I mumbled. I didn't realize what I'd said until Charlie frowned and flushed in anger. "Wait… that came out so wrong."

"For his sake, I hope so."

"Really, it's nothing… everything reminds me of him," I said lamely. It was a poor explanation, but there was no better one to give. The truth was that a poor night's sleep on the couch helped to disguise the root of the problem, that I could barely sleep at at all. I didn't think Charlie was going to buy it, but at least he let it slide for now.

"Breakfast in fifteen minutes," Charlie said after a pause.

"I'm not hungry." Just the thought of food made me feel a little sick.

"I don't care. Get up. Get dressed. I'm not going to watch you waste away."

I quickly realized what Charlie was worried about.

"This isn't going to be like it was when—" I wasn't sure I could talk about it, but one look at Charlie's fierce and protective expression pushed me into trying. I sighed, and continued. "It's not the same. This was amicable. I'm not going to lose it like I did when he left me."

Charlie nodded, a slight relief shading his face. "Good."

That was Tuesday. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday—they all went the same. Charlie hovered, which was weird enough on its own, but then that shifted into something entirely new. Charlie brought home dinner, Charlie rented movies, Charlie tried to convince me to go fishing with him. Charlie talked.

It was a strange bubble we'd found ourselves in, and I wondered if he'd done all these same things during those horrid months last year when Edward was gone, and the saner part of me had left with him. I couldn't remember, and I felt terrible for it.

We'd started having lunch together. We sat at the kitchen table instead of in the living room, and even on the days Charlie worked, he stopped home to eat with me. It was nice. It made me feel like even though I'd thrown away all that had previously made up what I considered normal, that maybe there could be a new normal. A better routine. That in just a few days something good had come out of all that had happened.

In the grand scheme of things, eight days wasn't all that much time. Especially with all the loose ends I'd neglected to tie up. They were already whittling away. Two to go. It hadn't felt real until I had the date. It had been a dream, a fantasy; something I'd wanted desperately but couldn't quite catch hold of. Time had slowed to a crawl, and now it sped past me so fast I wasn't sure I could keep pace.

It was the first truly sunny day we'd had all summer. Out the living room window was a clear blue sky, sun shining clear. A weight I couldn't describe fell away at the sight, the whispering doubts in the back of my head silenced. I hadn't associated the sun with something bright in so long; the whole concept felt backward and out of place. In a rush of determination, I dressed to venture out into the world. For once I could be sure of what I would not encounter outside my home. There was no Edward out there in the sunlight, and I had things I needed to do.

Quitting my job at Newton's Outfitters was nothing more than a formality. Really, they'd been expecting me to leave ever since the wedding announcement. I hadn't even worked a shift there since before graduation. There wasn't much to say; at the very least they hadn't expected me to stay beyond August.

I drove by the high school twice, down all the side streets, and before I knew it was on the highway to La Push. I wasn't sure what I thought I would find there. I wasn't even sure if there was anyone left on the reservation who wanted anything to do with me. As soon as the realization crossed my mind, I pulled onto the shoulder.

There was something about the highway that spanned between my house and Jacob's that let turmoil loose in me.

It hadn't even been three weeks, and everything was so different. Jacob was gone. I hadn't really comprehended it until now. He and I had always been similar, and I wondered if he was doing the same thing I was trying to—if that wedding invitation had been the last straw, and he couldn't stand it anymore. I hoped that wherever he was, he was happy. Or at least happier.

I wished there was some way to thank Sam and the rest of the wolves for all they'd done, but I wasn't sure my gratitude was welcome. Only Quil and Embry had ever been close to something resembling friends. Seth, I thought, would probably be nice enough, though I irrationally worried that it wasn't Jacob's side he'd choose over mine, but Edward's. Still, whatever tolerance they had mustered up in the past had surely fled along with Jacob.

I should have said thank you when I had the chance.

I turned around and drove back toward town on auto-pilot. Everything felt so unfinished, but it wasn't nearly enough to make me reconsider. Now that there was an end point set, I felt so much lighter. Even with the guilt and uncertainty that plagued me, there was a glimmer at the end of the tunnel. If I changed my mind now, I didn't think I'd ever be able to stop wondering what might have happened if I had followed through; because I knew exactly what would happen, eventually, if I stayed.

I thought about the meadow, and longed for the chance to lie in the sun there one more time before I left it behind. It would be nice to have one last day where I could pretend everything was going to be okay, would go according to the plan I had set out for myself. It was impossible to figure out which side of me the desire was born of; if it was immaturity or something deeper that could help me move on. But the meadow was just like First Beach, like every place that was special to me; it belonged to someone else. Nothing here was mine.

For the first time I truly appreciated what Edward had meant when he tried to explain how essential distractions were. I needed something, anything to keep me from these melancholy thoughts. My past may have been riddled with missteps and decisions I wished I could change—perspectives I wish I'd been able to see—but that didn't mean dwelling on them would change anything now. I'd already done what I could to ensure that going forward I wouldn't make the mistake of clinging to a world I idealized without understanding.

The grocery store was as good a place as any to take my mind off my problems. Charlie had taken on the bulk of the responsibility for meals, and we were both getting tired of take-out from the diner.

Grocery shopping was something I used to enjoy. I'd plan meals and flip through magazines, content in the knowledge that this was something I could do to help out, and that I did it well. It wasn't the same anymore. I wondered if these little things would ever feel normal again, or if my foray into the world of the supernatural had skewed my vision so sharply that it was impossible to go back. It felt like the boxes on the shelves were taunting me. They were in the same places they'd always been while I was stuck between worlds with no clue where I belonged. All I had was a ringing in my ears and ashes in my lungs.

I turned into the next aisle and was met with the sight of familiar bouncing curls. I considered turning away without saying anything, but as soon as my fingers tightened around the handle of the shopping cart my head cleared enough to walk forward and smile.

"Hey, Jess."

"Bella!" The grin slid off her face and she immediately adopted what I'd taken to calling the sympathetic head-tilt of doom. I'd been getting a lot of those today. "How've you been?"

I wasn't sure why I hadn't considered this angle until it was too late. The wedding invitations had gone out. Of course someone—I guessed Alice—had to run around explaining to everyone that there wasn't actually going to be a wedding. I knew Charlie had talked to Renee, but I wasn't sure what he'd told her; I barely knew what she'd said to me when he handed the phone over.

I wondered what everyone had thought happened. Obviously, Jessica had some expectation that I would be in no condition to be grocery shopping.

"I've been well. Mostly helping Charlie around the house, making plans for the summer." I shouldn't have been so pleased with Jessica's surprise, but there was something fierce and angry clawing at my spine that wanted to make sure she knew that I wasn't that same girl who fell apart when Edward left last fall. I may have still been a weakling, but at least I was gaining strength.

"Oh. Well, good for you." Jessica smiled brightly, trying to regain her footing. The sincerity of her grin made me feel a little bad for my cattiness; it wasn't Jessica's fault I was an oversensitive mess.

"What about you?" I asked. "How has your summer been so far?"

"Same as ever. Although the trying to wrap my mind around going to college is new."

"You're going to Wisconsin, right?" I wasn't sure how I remembered that tidbit, but I could tell from the grin that lit up Jessica's face that she appreciated it.

"Yeah, Marquette. I never knew I could be so nervous." We started moving through the store again, Jessica's basket making short arcs as she tried to contain her excitement. "I guess that's normal though. How about you? Are you still going to Alaska?"

I waited for the dread to come, for the sickening feeling of being lost to trample through me, but the sensation never came. I only needed a few seconds to take a steadying breath before I could answer. "Probably not. I was going there to be with Edward, and now I'm not sure what's going to happen with us. Alice and I are going to visit some friends of hers this summer, and I guess I'll see what happens from there."

"Good for you." Jessica bumped her shoulder against mine. She sounded like she was genuinely happy for me. "I wish I could have done something like that, taken a year off, traveled."

"It wasn't something I'd planned for, but to tell you the truth I can't wait."

"Where are you guys going?"

"California. L.A., to see some friends of Alice's." The lie was an easy one. I'd been practicing it a lot lately.

"Way to rub salt in the wound." Jessica rolled her eyes and made the turn with me out of the aisle to stop in front of the check out. She leaned in to hug me. "Don't be a stranger, okay? Send lots of pictures."

I felt awful for how easy it had been to dismiss her; if I'd given her half a chance she would have been a great friend. I watched her walk away and wondered what my life would have been if I'd made a different choice when I met Edward. If I'd listened to him, what would Jessica and I be saying to each other now?

There was no sense in speculation. I'd burned the bridge connecting me back to people like Jessica, to the people that could have been friends in high school, and my father. There was only one way left to go and that was forward. I thought that maybe I understood what Jasper had meant, though, when he told me that I'd chosen this, too. I could dictate the pace of my steps. I could use this precious time I had left to ensure that when I dissolved from this world and solidified in another I wouldn't lose everything.

The tides felt like they were settling; or maybe I was just getting used to their weight. There was so much left to wash over and still my breathing, but maybe if I only focused on this part I could handle it. I would deal with this one thing, and then the next. I'd pace my steps so that at the end I would be sure.

When I walked back out into the sun, my head felt like it was raised a little higher, and I managed to keep hold of the glimmer of optimism all through my drive home. As I struggled up the porch steps under the weight of far too many grocery bags, I allowed myself to think that maybe I could try to believe Alice when she said that everything would turn out alright in the end.

Charlie turned toward the front hall when the door slammed shut behind me. He tried to smooth the worry lines dancing across his forehead, but it was obvious what he was thinking.

"Sorry, I had some things to take care of in town."

Charlie shrugged and came to take an armful of bags from me. "Dinner's almost ready."

The burner on the stove was on, and there wasn't a take-out container in sight. Now that was terrifying.

"You know, I've been thinking. You could take some courses at the college up in Port Angeles. Their summer registration is over, but they have some good adult education classes," Charlie said. He was doing a disturbingly good job of pretending he didn't have an ulterior motive. He'd been putting up these offers ever since he found out the clock had started ticking. "They have some cooking stuff. You like cooking, right?"

"I'm not taking cooking classes, Charlie."

"They've got a good auto-shop program, too. Someone's got to keep that truck running." Charlie tried again. This offer was more tempting, but not by much.

I would never admit it, but I was impressed with the sheer volume of incentives Charlie managed to come up with to convince me to stay home for the summer. He was far more creative than I'd ever given him credit for.

"Maybe you're the one who should sign up for the cooking classes," I said, eyeing what I supposed was supposed to be spaghetti sauce near boiling on the stovetop.

"I'm not the one who's a flight risk," Charlie muttered.

I frowned.

Charlie shuffled his feet and started unloading the groceries into the refrigerator. He grabbed a beer for himself while he was in there. "You can't really blame me, can you?"

"No, I don't blame you," I said as I grabbed a spoon to stir the sauce. It wasn't going to help.

"It's hard for me to believe that in two days, you'll be gone."

"But I'll come back." It was the one promise I could make him and the more time wore on, the more determined I became to keep it.

"You'd better."

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**A/N: Guess who shows up in the next chapter? ;-)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Beta'd by sweeneyanne (love), and pre-read by aerobee82 & AlexisDanaan (love love)**

**Don't own Twilight.**

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**Chapter 5**** - Teething**

I spent my last two days gathering and sorting my possessions into piles around my room. I had to go slow, take steps, because I knew if I pulled that suitcase out again not even Jasper could stop me. I had to keep control of myself, because Jasper was right; Charlie deserved so much more than to come home only to find his daughter had taken off, again.

Charlie and I hadn't talked much about my impending departure, other than his continued attempts to sway me. He wasn't putting much effort into it anymore. There were little things said over dinner; comments about a movie we could see together, or how we really should go fishing with Billy sometime.

Today was heavier. This was the last time we'd have lunch together.

The swell of phantom smoke and screams ringing in my ears was instantaneous and vicious; the memory of exactly what I was running away from always came at the most inopportune times. The table was quiet. Charlie stared at the clock. For a split-second I wished he'd make one more attempt to sway me. Just one more try, one more argument or enticement. I hadn't realized how tight I was holding on to our agreement to come back home. Resigning myself to say goodbye, even temporarily, was more difficult than I could have ever imagined. I was starting to think I wouldn't ever be ready to do it for good.

The second hand made another lap around the clock-face. Charlie glanced my way and asked, "Alice is coming to get you? What do you want me to do with the truck?"

"Do you mind keeping it around?" There probably wasn't any reason to, but I couldn't bear the idea of Charlie getting rid of it.

"Truth be told, I'd be sorry to see it go." Charlie clapped his hand on my shoulder as he stood and made his way to the sink. "I have to go back to work for a couple hours."

He left without another word. We'd already argued our cases to death.

It was my last day in Forks, and I could finally start piling clothes into my suitcase. It was harder than I thought it'd be. Maybe because deep down I knew that this time it was for real, where before I'd never actually expected to make it more than two yards from the house before Alice came to stop me. This time I couldn't throw all of my possessions into a mountain on top of my bed with the delusion that I could take my whole existence with me wherever I went. Some things had to be left behind. Like Charlie. It made my heart ache.

I left all but my three favorite books in favor of my photo album. I never thought I'd have to make choices like this.

The hours slipped away from me to the rhythm of folding the last of my clothes. I heard the front door slam and knew Charlie was back, but he didn't come up the stairs. I would have lost it if he did. I zipped my suitcase shut and selfishly considering a scenario where I'd already left in the middle of the night, so I wouldn't have to deal with hard goodbyes.

I wasn't surprised when Alice appeared in my doorway. Once upon a time she might have startled me, but I was used to the Cullens' stealth. She gave me a little smile, and wordlessly hoisted the strap of my duffel bag over her shoulder. I grabbed the suitcase and the smaller bag, took a deep breath, and followed her from my room without looking back. I didn't think I'd be able to stand it.

Charlie pulled me into a tight hug at the front door. It wasn't as uncomfortable as I'd thought it would be.

I whispered that I loved him with my cheek pressed tight to his coat. Charlie strengthened his hold on me for a moment before shoving something in my pocket. "Love you too, Bells. Be safe. Be _smart__._"

"I will." I swallowed back the lump in my throat, nodded, and stepped from his embrace. My hand automatically sought out what he'd given me. It was a wad of cash, a fifty wrapped around the outside. I couldn't accept so much of Charlie's money.

"Just take it. Give me one less thing to worry about."

It was against my nature, but I nodded and put the roll of bills back where I'd found it. Anything that would give Charlie some peace of mind was well worth doing. "I'll call you when we get there."

"Yes you will," Charlie agreed. He stood on the front porch and watched us load my bags into the trunk, save for one I kept with me; the one that had my photo album in it. I couldn't quite make myself loosen my hold on the strap.

Alice backed down the driveway in silence, and I stared fixedly at the rearview mirror. I couldn't face forward until Charlie was long out of sight.

I tried not to let my panic show when Alice, instead of turning right to go toward the highway, hung a left and headed toward her house. It made sense; Charlie wasn't the only person I'd made promises to. Alice parked in the driveway and turned to me the moment Edward walked out onto the lawn. My heart stuttered in my chest, my throat ached.

"He wasn't sure if you'd want to see him," Alice said, her voice quiet and soothing. "But he's here, if you'd like to say goodbye."

The truth was that no, I didn't want to talk to Edward. Not today—not the day before we were supposed to get married—but I didn't have much of a choice. I had to push the cowardly side of me away and do what I knew was right. I couldn't leave him without a word. Somewhere—deep, dark, and fleeting—I thought that maybe this would help to close a long scarred over wound; if not leaving him the way he left me would somehow make me feel better about everything that had happened between us.

"Yeah." I nodded. I wasn't all that sure I was going about things the right way or if my motives were completely selfish, but I knew that if I didn't say something to Edward, I would regret it for the rest of my life.

I hadn't allowed myself to feel how much I missed him. What I had to remember was that what was happening right now, it wasn't really about Edward. It was about me, and coming to terms with the reality of the world I'd been shot into at seventeen. I had to remember that I wasn't ready for this, and hold on to my resolve. I took one last steady breath before I pushed the car door open.

Carlisle and Esme were first. Strong hugs filled with touching words that served just the right purpose. Even through their loving farewells my eyes remained trained on Edward. I was glad for this stepping stone, these extra few minutes before I'd have to face him. Then, I was released, and there was nothing left between me and Edward.

"Bella." The tips of his fingers brushed over my cheeks, and I realized that I'd been repressing far more feelings than I'd believed. There was something severely wrong about the _way_ that I missed him. Like he was my soul; like I was nothing without him. Not so long ago I'd come to this same conclusion and thought it romantic. This time it made me feel nauseated. I should have my own soul. I shouldn't have to siphon all my life from him. It wasn't fair to either of us.

I couldn't stand to look him in the eye. "I'm so sorry, Edward."

"I've already told you—traveling, seeing the world, these are the kinds of things I want for you."

"I'd always planned on it being with you, though." I sighed and took a step back to get a little space, not that it did much good. We were still standing far too close. This wasn't going well. Two weeks apart and it was like his hold on me had recharged. It only took one look to wash away everything toxic running through my veins, and I had to remind myself that it wasn't right. I didn't want to need him in this way.

"You say you are undecided; tell me when you make up your mind. Either way," Edward murmured. He reached out and swept the hair away from my face, his touch so light I felt nothing but the cold. "You don't have to be ready to come home, or ready to leave for good—just tell me when you decide. Please."

"Okay," I whispered back. It was the least I could do for him.

Edward bowed his head to kiss me once, his lips hard and familiar over mine, and separated himself from me by a few feet. His demeanor shifted, determination overcame him, and he turned to Jasper. Emmett stepped in front of me, blocking my view of whatever was happening between his brothers. I suspected it was tense, and Edward probably did not want me to see.

"You must ride a roller-coaster," Emmett said, completely straight-faced, yet strangely earnest. He began counting off on his fingers. "You need to eat bizarre food, play laser-tag, go to a baseball game, and learn how to play blackjack."

"Buy a beautiful dress without looking at the price," Rosalie said quietly, adding to Emmett's list once he quieted. It was the first time she'd ever spoken to me without even a trace of annoyance. "Kiss a man for fun. Just for the hell of it."

It wasn't until then that I realized what Emmett and Rosalie were doing. Their intentions were little needles prickling in my heart. These were all the things Emmett and Rosalie wished they'd been able to do, when they were human.

"I will," I said, more toward Rosalie than Emmett. For some reason the sentiment meant more from her. Rosalie nodded once. In that moment I thought we understood each other more than we ever had. She wanted me to live; I didn't know why I hadn't been able to see that for what it was until now.

"And for God's sake, learn to do something with your hair." Rosalie rolled her eyes with the comment, but she also spared me a smile before our attention was drawn by another conversation.

"She will be safe?" Edward asked, ferocity coloring his words. He and Jasper stared at each other, the match quickly turning into glares from both parties. Edward growled. "I want to know where you are taking her."

"No." Jasper set his jaw and held his ground. "If you know and Aro comes looking, then he can find her."

"They could send Demetri," Edward argued. I didn't think I'd ever get used to how quickly and effectively he could change demeanor. Not more than five minutes ago he'd been kissing me.

"Demetri is of no consequence. His gift works like yours, like Jane's." Jasper seemed to settle into the argument once it became apparent that Edward was trying to be logical.

"He could find you," Edward said, and his expression hardened in the next instant. "What do you _mean_ you won't be with her?"

"She will be safe," Jasper repeated. "It is a bad tactical decision to let you know everything, but I promise you, she will be safe."

"I don't know any of your friends well enough to trust them," Edward insisted, unable to pick a name from Jasper's thoughts.

Jasper's face darkened. His lips curled back from his teeth enough for his sneer to rip terror through me. He looked like a vampire. A very offended and very real vampire. "Learn to."

Edward paused for a moment, weighing how much confidence Jasper had in this plan of his. Eventually Edward let out a breath and narrowed his eyes. "If anything happens to her—"

Jasper didn't let him finish, and he didn't answer. He gave a sharp nod of his head and held Edward's gaze for a few more seconds. Edward turned away and Jasper made quick strides toward the car, some unknown agreement decided upon. Knowing the two of them, it probably ended bloody if things went wrong.

I shuffled my feet against the driveway; it seemed I was a never-ending source of conflict for the Cullens.

"Stop it," Jasper said under his breath. "It isn't your fault."

Stemming the flow of guilt was easier said than done, but there was something in the force of Jasper's tone that made me want to try. Alice took hold of my hand and guided me to the open back door of the car, and there was only one thing left to do.

I whispered my goodbye right before the door swung shut, but I caught the movement of Edward's lips and knew his reply had been that he loved me. My eyes settled on the windshield. There was no answer to that; not when I loved him, too, and here I was, perpetuating the sick cycle where all we ever did was leave each other.

Two more doors clicked shut, and I closed my eyes until I was sure Edward was far enough in the rearview mirror that I wouldn't be able to find him again. When my eyelids slid open, the world sped by in a blur. Trees melted together as Jasper nudged the accelerator toward the floor, and Alice scooted a bit closer to me along the back-seat.

"Where are we going?" I asked quietly.

Once we'd made another two turns she answered back, just as quiet. "A couple of hours outside of Omaha."

I'd never been to Nebraska.

Jasper shifted gears and pulled out onto the highway, and not once did he try to manipulate my feelings, or try to stem the flow of tears coursing down my cheeks. Probably because he knew that despite the crying, once we passed the sign marking the edge between Forks and the rest of the world, I could finally breathe.

* * *

My first impression of Peter was that he was a quiet man. He stood tall in his doorway, silently assessing the scene laid out before him. The house behind him was brick, set off center in a narrow clearing; the driveway had to have been near a mile long. It reminded me of the suburbs. Like someone had plucked one of the dozens of cookie-cutter dwellings out of a neighborhood and plopped it down in the middle of the woods.

The sun hung low in the sky behind the house, shadowing Peter. His hair was a few shades darker than mine; the strands cropped close to his scalp, a little longer on top. I suspected he was around the same age as Carlisle when he was changed. Maybe a little older. He wasn't a large man, not like Emmett, but he was imposing. His eyes gleamed deep red; like wet blood. A shudder ran down my spine to form a vise around my lungs, but I forced a deep breath and held myself even. Jasper had made it very clear that Peter did not live the way the Cullens did over the past few hours, and I'd spent the rest of the drive contemplating how I would handle his company knowing how he fed himself.

In the end, I decided I would have to trust Jasper. He understood better than I did about what was bothering me, and I had to believe that he wouldn't send me here if Peter was anything like Victoria. I forced myself to take another look at his eyes. They were darker than I expected, and in that I found a way to ease my misgivings. If Peter hadn't bothered to hunt right before we arrived, it showed he had a great amount of control over himself.

Still, he made me nervous. Nearly twenty-four hours stuck in the car didn't help matters.

Jasper spoke first. "Thank you for helping with this."

Peter only nodded in reply.

Jasper and Peter shared a long look; it reminded me of the way Alice and Edward would sometimes communicate through their abilities. Alice nudged me forward a bit, and Jasper gestured toward me. "This is Bella. Bella, meet Peter."

"Hi." I never knew one word could feel so awkward.

Peter nodded again, and turned to walk inside. There wasn't anything to do but follow.

The interior was much like the outside. Plain, standard. The front door lead into a seating area with fireplace, beyond that, two hallways which I could only assume lead to a kitchen of sorts and a bedroom. The floors were hardwood. The walls were all covered with the same even tone of yellowed beige. I kind of liked it.

"Alice." Peter greeted, and I turned back to see a smug look on his face. "Still as charming as ever."

Alice scowled and shook her head. I had no idea what that was about.

"Down the hall," Peter said, addressing me for the first time. His voice was different than the other vampires I knew. It lacked that off-putting musical quality that never failed to make me uncomfortable. He sounded more… normal, I supposed.

"Thank you." Another anxious minute passed before I edged away. Apparently Jasper hadn't been exaggerating when he told me Peter wasn't the type to get in the way.

Alice scoffed at the surroundings, and by the time I'd reached what I assumed was a bedroom, she was right beside me shaking her head.

"What?" I asked once the door at the end of the hallway had swung shut behind us. I still had trouble reconciling that privacy was never anything but an illusion when you spent your time with vampires.

"Nothing." Alice looked over the room and scowled, determined to let the short-lived topic drop. "Would it kill him to at least put some effort into making his house a nice place to live?"

I didn't share Alice's aversion. Sure, it was plain and bare, but it was also low-key. The bed looked comfortable enough and all the necessities were there. The walls were painted in a softer hue rather than the harsh whites of the Cullen's house, and I found the color to be soothing. I shrugged. "I don't see the problem."

"I'm not surprised." Alice laughed, finally smiling. "Let's get you situated and then see what those two have come up with."

It felt too strange, unpacking my things into another man's dresser. Fortunately, Alice let me stop there and didn't insist I empty the rest of the things I brought with me into the room. Instead, I left my remaining bag untouched, sitting next to the bed.

Jasper and Peter hadn't moved from the center of the living room where we'd left them. Their voices were too quiet to make out, but both carried intense expressions on their faces. One look and I knew I wanted nothing to do with whatever conversation they were having. Not today.

"I have to call Charlie," I muttered before striding right out the front door to sit on the stoop.

Talking to Charlie went as expected. He still wasn't happy, but there was some relief in his voice. Like he hadn't quite believed that I'd keep in contact. It made me even more determined to keep my word to him. I didn't want him sitting at home worrying about me, and I didn't want to break the fragile trust we'd managed to build in the last few weeks.

We kept it short. There wasn't a whole lot to say. When I went back into the house the atmosphere had thinned. I went to stand next to Alice.

"You have all the documents?" Jasper asked, continuing some conversation started while I was outside. Peter nodded before striding over to a desk against the wall and picked up a manila envelope. "Good."

"Want to take a look?" Peter asked, and Jasper shook his head.

"Better not."

Peter put the envelope back in the drawer and crossed his arms. I hated it when they did this sort of thing, and I wasn't in the mood to play witness to their inside conversation. "What's in there?"

"Jasper got you a present," Peter said. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to divine any sort of context from his expression, but it was useless. The corner of his mouth twitched when he noticed me staring. "You'll find out soon enough. Don't give yourself an aneurysm."

Maybe Alice wasn't going to tell me why she didn't like him, but I was starting to get an idea. Peter was a little abrasive.

"It's no big deal," Jasper said, turning his attention to me. "Just some I.D., I thought you might need it."

My gaze shifted back the drawer Peter had closed. "And you don't want to know what name is on it."

"It's better if we don't. Just in case."

These were all things I never would have thought to consider. This gap that separated me from Jasper, the Cullens, and Edward—it was ever widening. Though it felt like maybe I could say that I'd stumbled forward a few steps.

Jasper stood rigid. He didn't mention the turmoil coursing through me or try to say something to make me feel better. He let me keep my insecurities. Maybe he understood I needed to feel it in order to move on, to grow up. In the end his motives didn't matter. It was nice to have someone stand next to me without even a glimmer of judgement. I hadn't ever realized how simple such a thing could be. Jasper and I weren't family; we were barely even friends. Still, Jasper understood, even when I didn't. I'd always assumed that was something I'd only be able to find in Edward, eventually. It never crossed my mind to look for it in a friend.

"You good?" Jasper asked. I swallowed and nodded. He knew I was lying, but he probably also understood the subtext; that I _would_ be, in time. "I have to get going."

I hadn't realized Jasper would be leaving so soon, but I hadn't given his departure much thought in the first place. All of my energy had been focused on getting away from Forks. What came next was lost to me.

Alice pivoted and looped her arms around Jasper's neck. She tipped her head back and smiled. "I'll see you around. You know I'll find you."

"You always do."

"Try not to make it so difficult this time," Alice said.

Jasper smirked and reached an arm out to pull her closer. "No promises."

I had the feeling he might try to lead her astray a few times, if only to see if he could. He smiled and leaned his forehead down to rest on hers. I had to look away. To my right, Peter stared out the window. It seemed he didn't like watching Jasper and Alice be sweet to each other, either. Again, I wondered what had happened between him and Charlotte, why she wasn't here with him. Then again, he could have the same thoughts about me and Edward, so I shoved the curiosity to the back of my mind.

Jasper and Alice's farewell was sweet, quiet, and radiated certainty that no matter what happened they would find their way back to each other. In comparison mine seemed cold, lifeless. I wasn't sure what that said about me, or about me and Edward.

I found myself making comparisons, trying to guess how I measured up against them with my own goodbye not even two days ago. I'd left everything of me behind in Forks with Edward. I gave it willingly, without question. The way that Alice was smiling, it was like she was sure that when Jasper left, he'd be leaving as many pieces of himself as he was taking from her. I wish I'd been able to see these things before.

I was going to miss him; I hadn't realized how much I'd come to depend on his presence. In Forks he was always within reach, though I rarely called out to him. Soon, I would be thinking the same thing about Alice. She would be leaving next, and then I would be all alone with no one but the stoic and distant stranger standing across the living room.

When Jasper left, Alice smiled. It was like one moment he was there, staring down at Alice like she was his whole world, and then in the time it took me to take a breath he was gone. I thought I might start crying any moment, but tried to hold it back for her sake. Surely if anyone had the right to be upset it was her, not me.

I had no idea how Alice was managing to hold it together. I'd never been able to deal with sort of thing all that well. It might have been easier on her because she and Jasper had been through this sort of thing before, or because she knew they'd be together again soon. Maybe Alice was simply built tougher than me. In all likelihood it was all three.

A second look around Peter's house only confirmed what I already knew; he had very little in the way of human necessities. He'd made no effort to put on a presentation like the Cullens did. The only things in his kitchen were the appliances I was sure had come with the house. The refrigerator wasn't even plugged in.

Alice began poking through the cabinets, muttering to herself about how outrageous Peter's lack of hospitality was. He seemed to find the scene playing out in his kitchen amusing. I thought Alice was overreacting, but I wasn't going to tell her that.

"It's not like you didn't know she was coming," Alice said, her tone sharp and accusing. Peter shrugged, unbothered. Alice turned her attention to me. "We need to go shopping."

We actually did need to go to the store, so I didn't fight her on it. Besides, I had questions I wanted to ask away from prying ears. Specifically, I wanted to know why she was being so hostile, and why no one had ever bothered to tell me she had a problem with the man Jasper saw fit to leave us with. She was making me nervous.

Once we'd flown down the driveway and pulled onto the main road I turned on Alice. "What was all of that about?"

"It's nothing." Alice scowled and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. My jaw clenched. Alice chanced a look at me and sighed. "It's nothing that you need to be concerned about. It's… petty. Nonsense, really."

That was the last she was willing to say on the matter, and I was left wondering what sort of person had Jasper left me with. I was inclined to believe Alice, that whatever dislike hung in the air between them had nothing to do with me, if only because I didn't want to consider the alternative.

Alice switched the topic to what sort of things we needed from the store—groceries, mostly—and didn't let up until long after she'd swiped her credit card at the checkout and driven us back to Peter's house.

The rest of the day passed quietly and without production, as I had hoped it would. I didn't want a fuss made, and I didn't want too many opportunities to think about what this day could have been if I hadn't had second thoughts.

I could be married right now. I could be dancing with Edward at our reception, or getting ready to head off on whatever he had planned for our honeymoon. I felt strangely empty when it came to thoughts of the wedding. Maybe Charlie was right, I hadn't ever wanted it very badly. Getting married was just another step toward Edward, another thing to tie us together. In the end, the paperwork of our relationship meant next to nothing. Edward was the only one who saw value in a marriage certificate.

I counted the planks of wood crossing the ceiling long into the night in an effort to exhaust my brain enough to sleep, but it wasn't working. I didn't think it was possible to be so tired. Weeks of bad nights at home compounded with lack of sleep over the past couple of days to make tonight even more frustrating. I didn't even feel like a person any more.

It had been easier at home; in Charlie's living room. There I'd been able to drift off to the flashing of the television, eventually. I turned to my other side, yanking the covers along with me, and spent the next forty five minutes hating myself for briefly wishing I was back in Forks. I always wanted whatever it was that I didn't have.

I turned to my other back and glared up at the ceiling, angry that one of the most basic human functions was so firmly out of my grasp. The door creaked open a moment later, and I pulled the covers over my head. I didn't know how to deal with anyone right then.

"What's wrong?" Alice asked, climbing up onto the bed next to me. She tugged the blankets from my grasp and tilted her head as she stared down at me.

"I can't sleep," I answered. My voice sounded dull and hoarse, and I'd never felt so pathetic in my life. "It's not my room, and it's not Edward. It's me. I can't sleep alone anymore."

"Don't worry, I'll stay with you." Alice turned and reclined against the pillows, and ran her fingers through my hair once before plucking my book from the nightstand.

"That's not really the point," I muttered.

"I know, but you'll never get a handle on anything unless you get some rest. So for now, I'll stay. Tomorrow we can try to come up with something else."

I couldn't even try to be embarrassed over the tears that escaped down my cheeks. "I'm so pathetic. This isn't who I want to be."

"I know. And believe me, that makes all the difference. Now scoot over. You're hogging the bed."

"You don't have to stay in here because of me," I whispered. I didn't mean it at all.

"This doesn't make you weak, or pathetic, or anything other than someone who needs a friend right now," Alice said quietly. "Besides, being in here with you is a thousand times better than being out there with Peter."

She kept making all these little comments about him, and then refusing to tell me what she meant. It could have been that this was one time too many, or that I was simply tired and unwilling to play along. Either way, my next words came out sounding harsh and bitter. "Come on, Alice. Tell me why you don't like him."

Alice pressed her lips into a thin line and refused to answer.

"At least tell me if it's because he's hard to get along with, or if it's something I actually need to be concerned about." I didn't think it was a whole lot to ask for.

She finally gave in to my badgering. "You don't need to be worried. It really is nothing serious. Peter and I have a rough history, and that's all I'm telling you. Do you honestly think we would have brought you here if it were anything else?"

"I guess not." I rolled my eyes and gave up for the night. She was so difficult sometimes. "Oh, fine. I'll get it out of you eventually."

She cracked a smile at that. "Don't count on it."

"Maybe I'll ask him."

Alice snorted. "You go right ahead. Let me know how it works out for you."

I sighed and folded my arms behind my head, content to keep talking with Alice rather than admit to myself that sleep was most likely hopeless. "I know you won't tell me what's going to happen, but will you at least tell me if it's always going to be like this?"

"No," Alice said after a moment. "It's not always going to be like this. That I can promise you."

"Jasper said that you see me going back to Forks." I didn't actually need to ask her for clarification on that point, but I wanted to know if what she'd seen had to do with my promise to Charlie, or Edward.

"Of course you go back. Forks is your home." Alice gave me a gentle kick over the sheets and settled back into the pillows with my book. "Now go to sleep. We'll figure the rest out in the morning."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Beta'd by sweeneyanne and preread by AlexisDanaan and aerobee82. *kisskisskisskisskiss***

**Don't own Twilight!**

* * *

**Chapter 6**** - Push**

The first thing that I learned was it was quiet in Nebraska, in more ways than one. There was nothing but trees as far as I could see in every direction. Alice did her part, tried to keep me occupied enough that I wouldn't sink too far into my toxic thoughts, but there was only so much she could do. It was almost like living in a dream; just me and my ghosts. Nothing felt real.

Alice and I spent most of our time in the neighboring towns rather than in the house, and Peter— I wasn't exactly sure what it was Peter did. Not much that ever crossed my path. Still he was there, in the background. Peter was a lot like Jasper in that way. Always there, always watching. Where the Cullens had always seemed unnaturally graceful and near predatory in their relentless observations, Peter gave off the impression that it was simply part of his demeanor. He was cautious and careful; agility wasn't inherent, but merely a by-product of his character. These were the little things I thought about, to keep myself occupied. I'd hoped for more distractions out in the Nebraska wilderness, but realistically I hadn't expected them.

As it turned out, it wasn't my bedroom or Forks that contained my memories of Edward, or of Bree and Victoria. It was me. Those images were seared into my corneas and carved into my bones. They came with me everywhere I went. I should have known this, and maybe deep down, I had, but it was different now. There was no more denial; no more thinking that if I could only put a few more miles between me and that clearing, everything would be okay.

I'd thought that I would hate missing Edward. When I'd walked away I was determined to become self-reliant, so if we found our way back to each other I would be someone who could stand tall next to him. Instead, I found the constant reminders of his absence to be soothing; as long as I remembered and missed him, I hadn't lost sight of what I'd come here to do. It was easier to think of him this time, even though I still tried to avoid it if I could. Even so, no amount of fortitude could keep me from asking Alice about him. She never would tell me where he was, or what he was doing. I only knew that he wasn't in Forks. I hoped he was doing something fun, like he'd wished for me. I wanted him to be out in the world, living his life, being happy.

The days started to creep by, and I settled into a routine of sorts. I slept, badly most nights, and would wake to Alice cooking breakfast. If Peter was present he and Alice were invariably arguing. At first it was mostly her; sly remarks and not so subtle jabs shot through the house. Peter settled into the rhythm quickly. Within days they were slinging insults and over-worn debate like pros.

It started with the accommodations; Alice harped about everything, floor to ceiling and wall to wall, for an impressive twenty-four hours. Peter countered by comparing Alice's haircut to a twelve year old boy's. I quickly realized that when Alice had said her problem with Peter was personal, she'd meant it—just not in the way I'd assumed. It wasn't so much that they were arguing as they were battling. It wasn't about whatever had happened between them. It was about winning. After four days I was starting to find it funny. Alice did not agree with me on that point.

The insults they traded were mostly tame, at least the ones I understood—I'd heard far worse from Jacob and his friends on a daily basis—and Peter's goal appeared to be to mess with Alice more than anything else. He was almost like Emmett in that way. He was a teasing core wrapped up in Jasper's armor. I still wasn't sure what to make of him. We didn't talk much after all, and when we did it was always superficial, with a bite.

I had no idea what Peter thought of me; only that he certainly had an opinion that he wasn't sharing—yet. It wasn't just Alice that made Peter a little confrontational; the edge was built into him.

My gaze settled on two books stacked on the coffee table—it seemed every day something new crawled its way into the house. I tilted my head to read the spines. Austen and Steinbeck. I was sure it was Alice's way of trying to make me feel more comfortable. It wasn't necessary. I felt more at ease around Peter than I thought I would when we arrived; he was so similar to Jasper it was hard not to. Their mannerisms, their quiet—they ran in the same vein. In some ways I was more comfortable around Peter than I was with Alice, but that was probably because she was keeping such obvious secrets from me, and I didn't expect Peter to tell me anything.

It had only been a week, but already I could imagine my wounds closing. Everything was easier here. There was no one to appease, no Edward sewn into the walls. The screams of the dying were starting to become garbled and fade away. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I had some sick need in me to keep hearing that girl, to keep smelling her ashes on the wind. If I didn't remember her last moments, no one would.

I spent most my free time reading, or with Alice. I thought Alice probably spent her quiet moments alone thinking of Jasper. It wasn't difficult to see how lonely she was without him; or to decide what I needed to do in order to fix it.

Making up my mind was the easy part. Convincing Alice was another battle entirely. The point of this whole endeavor, the reason I was here, was to learn to stand on my own. To rip down the safety net, so I could find out who I was, even if it meant falling. I couldn't do that with Alice here. She should be with Jasper, not holding my hand my while I figured myself out.

I wasn't comfortable, not by a long shot, but I'd gotten used to Peter, and that was all I needed before I could tell Alice she could go. Now that the initial shock had worn off I could see that Jasper's faith in Peter wasn't unfounded, and that was more than I expected I would be able to find. I'd survived much worse, and if it turned out that it wasn't just Alice making him so irritable, well, I could survive Peter, too.

I didn't know how our dynamic would shift without Alice, but I knew that whatever happened, it was worth my friend being happy. I squared my shoulders and convinced myself that even if all this animosity fell on me without her, it would be worth it. I always was good at believing the little lies whispering in the back of my head.

It took days before I was able to lie convincingly enough to get Alice to consider leaving, another two arguing, and still more before she finally began to pack up the few things she'd brought with her.

I wouldn't be the reason Jasper and Alice had to be apart for one second longer than was necessary. She hadn't had to stay here with me, it was beyond obvious her and Peter didn't get along—I still wasn't sure why—and it was time to repay that. I didn't have to be friends with Peter; I didn't really even need to talk to him. We only had to coexist, and we were doing fine on that front. Jasper had been right; Peter mostly kept out of my way.

It was with this tentative balance that I found the strength to stand tall by the front door, and managed to keep my voice even when I told Alice goodbye.

"You're not going to ask what the future has in store for you?" Alice asked with a smile, her bags crammed full of the enormous amount of stuff she'd managed to acquire since arriving here with me. We really did shop far too much.

"I think I'm okay with not knowing. For now."

Alice gave me a lingering and suspicious look, but if she thought my motives weren't what they seemed, she didn't say anything. Maybe she was thankful for the opportunity to go find her husband. Maybe she didn't like Peter _that_ much.

"You call me if you need _anything_," Alice said, holding my hand a little too tight. "I'm serious, Bella. Anything."

"I'll be alright."

Alice gave me a little half-smile. "Yes, you will, won't you?"

I pressed my lips together and stood at the window the moment she walked out of the house; Alice was gone before I could blink. "Looks like it's just you and me."

"Seems that way." Peter said. When I turned from the view of the empty driveway, Peter had a thoughtful expression on his face. He frowned a little, and then started gathering the various items strewn around the living room.

"What are you doing?"

Peter held a hand out in front of him, and cocked his head to the side. He waited for what must have been five minutes before speaking. "Pack up. We're not staying."

"What? Why?" I stood still in the middle of the living room when I realized I was basically following him around like some sort of a puppy.

"Double-blind," Peter said. It was all the explanation I got. "Pack."

"I don't know what that means."

Peter shook his head. He looked annoyed. "It means that letting anyone know where we are is a liability. That includes Alice. And Jasper."

"But Alice―"

"Alice can't see me," Peter said before I had the chance to finish voicing my worry.

That was... that was sort of fascinating, and for the moment my curiosity won over my anger with Alice for never telling me about this blind-spot. This one little thing explained so much. No wonder Alice didn't like Peter, and no wonder she'd refused to tell me why. "She can't? Why not?"

Peter shrugged. He didn't seem to care. "I don't know. She's never been able to. Why do you think it took her so long to hunt down Jasper?"

I blurted out the first relevant thing that occurred to me. "Edward can't read my mind."

Peter didn't seem to care about that, either.

"Why didn't she just say so?"

In truth, I wasn't surprised she didn't, and the moment I came to this conclusion Peter answered with the very thing I'd been thinking. "Alice admit that she's got a weak point? She'd never."

I waited for a moment to see if he would say anything else, but he didn't, and I changed the subject to the more pressing matter. "I'm not going anywhere until I talk to Jasper."

I wouldn't budge on this point. I refused to be dragged around with no idea what was happening and no assurances that this was something Jasper would expect. I couldn't allow the only person who knew where I was to be Peter; he may have been Jasper's friend, but that didn't earn him enough trust for me to do this.

Peter cocked a brow at me, the corner of his lip twitching. He dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed. I crossed my arms and waited.

"She wants to talk to you," Peter said into the receiver. He shook his head as he listened to Jasper's reply. "Uncooperative is an understatement."

He took three long strides to stand in front of me, pressed his phone to my palm, and went to stand back across the room the second my fingers curled around the device and pressed it to my ear. Somewhere in the back of my head I thought that Peter had never said this many words to me before. The moment Alice left his attention shifted, and now I was stuck right in the middle of it. I'd considered this possibility, that once Alice left he'd either settle or shift his focus to me, but I'd already decided it was a chance I would take for her sake. I just shouldn't have assumed I'd get a grace period.

"Jasper?"

"What's wrong?" Jasper had the same tone as he did when we'd been discussing my flight from Washington. A little distanced, calculating. It calmed me, because I knew he was going to listen to what I had to say, and he would take it seriously. I grudgingly admitted that I felt a lot better about the whole situation once I realized that all I had to do was demand to speak with Jasper, and Peter would see to it.

"Peter wants to relocate."

"I figured he would," Jasper replied.

I glared at Peter's smug expression. "This all makes me very nervous."

"It's only a precaution, Bella," Jasper said. "I would do the same thing. It's probably not necessary, but we need to contain information about your whereabouts as much as possible. Just in case."

His argument was infuriating in the way that it made complete sense, and there was no way to fight it. I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself and muttered. "I don't like it."

Instead of giving false reassurances, Jasper said, "I'm assuming this means Alice is on her way, that you told her to go ahead and leave, even though you weren't ready yet."

He was guessing, he had to be; or maybe I really was that much of a miserably predictable person.

"Peter and I are getting along fine." Or, at least we had been. Sort of. It might have come across more convincingly if I hadn't snapped my teeth at the end.

Jasper laughed again, even Peter was on the cusp of a chuckle. "He's really not so bad."

"Easy for you to say."

Peter cleared his throat. I couldn't tell if he was amused or irritated with me. I scowled, in case it was the latter. He resumed gathering his belongings from the living room and disappeared down the hall, emerging after only a few seconds with a large duffel bag.

"How much of a head start do I have?" Jasper asked.

"She left not long before we called you. Maybe twenty minutes now?"

"Thanks for the warning." Jasper laughed, and an unbidden grin spread over my face, despite the turmoil raging in my head. I hadn't known it was possible to miss someone you barely knew so much, but my heart ached for Jasper's cool decisiveness. The way he carried himself, how he approached every problem with a level and strategic head, it put me on an even keel. Being so far removed from him, and now from Alice, it set my teeth on edge.

"Don't drive her too crazy. She misses you."

"The chase is half the fun," Jasper said, before excusing himself from the conversation.

The line went dead, and once again, there was only me and Peter standing across the room from each other. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing.

Peter approached me steadily, pried his phone out from between my fingers, and shoved the envelope he'd shown Jasper the day we arrived into my hands. This time when he spoke, he was less harsh. "Go pack."

I reluctantly headed to gather my things. I ripped the flap off the envelope halfway down the hall, and once the bedroom door had slammed shut with a suitable crack I dumped the contents on the bed. I took one look at the driver's license and tossed everything into my suitcase. He could have at least used a good picture if he was going to give me an insulting name.

Getting ready to go was easy; most of my things were still in suitcases—but convincing me to pack turned out to be the easy part. Getting me out of the house and into the car was another battle entirely. I didn't know where we were going or why, and I was sick and tired of being trampled over. I didn't want to be directed, I wanted to have some say in what happened to me. I was tired and confused, and teetering on the edge of something that I wasn't sure I could handle. So I lashed out. I planted my feet on the floor and said, "If it's not too much to ask, would you mind explaining what the hell is going on? And really? Jan Brady? I could kill you."

"You go right ahead and try. At least I made you old enough to go to the bar." Peter smirked. He looked far too proud of himself. I was going to run him over with the car if I ever got the chance. "You got everything?"

I nodded, and he grabbed his bag from the couch and headed toward the door, leaving me to stumble after him.

"I still think this is an overreaction," I protested as I heaved my bags into the trunk. He could have helped.

"Jasper told me to make you disappear. If you would prefer it, I could leave you in a ditch somewhere; if not, get in the car."

I wanted to defy him, but I wasn't sure why. The desire to rebel simmered under my skin. I wanted to show Peter that he couldn't boss me around and walk all over me. I wanted him to know from the start that I wasn't going to let him take my decisions away—or maybe it was me that I wanted to prove it to.

I wasn't ever going to win our staring contest; my eyes were already starting to burn. I got in the car. This didn't seem like a battle I was likely to win, and there was no sense in fighting just for the hell of it. I didn't even know why I was so opposed in the first place other than my own raging insecurities.

Peter shoved the car in reverse and backed down the driveway so fast I had to close my eyes. "You drive like Alice."

"Now, that was uncalled for," Peter said as the car spun. He shifted to drive and sped down the street.

I had spent far too much time racing down highways lately.

"Where are we going?"

"Not far."

Three hours later I asked the same question, and received the same answer. I didn't think I'd ever get used to vampires and their concepts of time and space. And then there was the silence. I was never going to learn how to deal with so little sound to compete with the wind rushing against the car windows.

"Stop fidgeting." Peter reached toward the console and turned on the radio.

I spent the next twenty miles glaring out my window.

As we passed another exit ramp I sighed, and Peter had a small amount of mercy on me. "I hired a caretaker, so the necessities should have been handled; food, magazine subscriptions, whatever it is teenage girls need."

I closed my eyes and tried to restrain my irritation into something short of slapping him. "You must think I'm awfully shallow if you believe all I need to survive is food and a magazine."

"It's not like I've seen you do much besides eat and read," Peter countered, and I gnashed my teeth.

"You know that's not all I do."

"Oh, I suppose you've got a point." Peter nodded. "You also shop."

The most infuriating part of it was that I couldn't think of anything to counter him with—and not from the past couple of weeks, either. In the past year I'd done nothing of note. I had nothing to show for all the time I'd spent in Forks. How pathetic. I needed to find a hobby.

I turned the conversation back toward Peter. At least we were talking. "What do you do for money?"

"I find people."

The way he phrased it sent a chill down my spine. "Like Demetri?"

"No, like a normal person," Peter answered, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. It was such an oddly human gesture. I thought I caught the flash of something in his expression, but I didn't know what it was, or if it was even really there in the first place. Still, it was something to think about later.

"What kind of people?"

Peter shrugged. "All kinds."

"For who?" I asked more insistently. There was something in the way he was deflecting my questions—it instantly put me on guard.

"For whoever wants them," Peter answered. I was sure he was rolling his eyes. "What about you? Why don't you tell me what exactly it is that I missed during our week together?"

"I'm good, thanks. I'd rather talk about _your_ job." I couldn't help but be a little proud of myself for refuting his attempt to change the subject.

"There isn't much to tell," Peter said, changing lanes with sharp jerk. I couldn't tell if he was hiding something or just trying to bother me.

"Do your customers—"

Peter interrupted. "Clients."

"Fine. _Clients_," I said, barreling on. I wasn't going to let him distract me. "Do they know what you are?"

"What I am?" Peter glanced my way, his eyebrow arched. I thought he might have found my question funny. "What exactly is it that I am?"

With ever passing day the list of words I associated with Peter grew—today that list had practically exploded—but I wanted to stay on topic rather than call him a jerk. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I'm afraid I have no idea." He took the first exit after crossing the border into Kansas, and pulled into a grocery store a little over a mile past the highway. "Get whatever else it is you need."

I spent twice as long as I needed in the store so I could say I'd inconvenienced him in some small way. It was only fair, if a bit petty.

Peter shook his head when I came back to the car, but said nothing. Another thirty minutes later we were coasting down another exit ramp, this one marked Andover. My leg bounced in anticipation. I wasn't ever subjecting myself to another car ride with him.

The scenery littering the offshoots of the highway faded into trees and narrower roads. Peter turned onto a private drive, and I started paying more attention to my surroundings as I tried to figure out where we were. We cleared the crest of a hill, and I found myself looking down on scattered houses spread out beyond a wrought iron fence and checkpoint. It was the last place I expected.

"What's with the gate?" I asked.

"The surrounding communities seem to have a bit of a bad element. People going missing every now and then. The Homeowner's Association decided to add some security. Started about when I bought the house."

"You didn't…"

"A man's gotta eat," Peter said, shrugging his shoulders. I couldn't figure out if I was horrified or amused by the sheer audacity of what he was implying, but I was pretty sure I would wind up leaning toward the former. "Besides, how else was I supposed to ensure my property value didn't tank?"

"That's terrible."

"A little." Peter conceded in way I suspected meant he didn't actually agree at all. "If it makes you feel better I could tell you I was extremely selective. Of course, how would you know if I was lying or not?"

There was no answer to a question like that. I supposed I would just have to believe he wasn't. I didn't think I could handle being around him otherwise.

The area reminded me of a diluted suburb. The yards were huge, and the houses were all built in the same four styles. Some were identical. Some even had white, picket fences.

"Isn't this a tad conspicuous?" I asked. All the houses we'd passed had obviously been occupied.

"Do you honestly think that if someone was looking for you, they'd look here? It's not like if the Volturi can't find you, they're going to send someone across the Atlantic to comb through every square mile of America."

I hadn't really thought about it that way.

"What would they do?" I asked, curious and a little bit afraid of what the answer might be.

"They would explore alternate means of location. I doubt they would have any success."

"And why not?"

"Because we've already covered those tracks." Peter didn't seem inclined to share any more, and I decided to let the subject drop, for now.

The silence was thick. The moment Peter pulled into a driveway identical to all the others, I bolted from the car and did the one thing I knew how to when the stifling atmosphere became too much. I avoided. "I have to call my dad."

"You can't tell your father where we are," Peter said harshly, rounding the car after me. "It's better for him if he doesn't know. Plausible deniability."

Two words have never made me so furious. "You mean if they torture him, he can't give me up."

"Yes."

I'd gotten used to blunt answers during my brief friendship with Jasper, but Peter managed to turn it about into something much harsher. I didn't know how he managed it. I knew he had a reason for thinking this way, and that he wasn't necessarily wrong—but logic couldn't possibly compete with the rage I felt. Charlie wasn't a tool to be used, he wasn't to be manipulated. Not anymore. "Let's get something straight. You get no say in what I do or do not tell my father. He's off-limits to you."

Peter shook his head and scowled. "You seem to be operating under the assumption that being oblivious is not what is best for him in this situation. It would take very little to confirm he knows nothing. However, if he has information and hides it, it would be clear the moment anyone who knew what to look for asked. That is what would put him in danger."

"So what? I should just keep lying to him? I can't do that."

"You have to. You lie to keep him safe. To protect him." His voice became less condescending, more insistent. "You have yet to learn this lesson, so I'll spell it out for you. Sometimes we do what is wrong; we mortgage our soul to save another. If you love him, you will pay that price."

"How could you possibly know what lessons I have or haven't learned?" I shot back. He didn't know anything about me, and here he was, picking every insecurity I had apart with a disturbing accuracy. He made me feel boring. Predictable. I hated him for it, and it wasn't fair, but I couldn't be bothered by such trivial things right now.

"It doesn't take much to figure you out."

I was sure my head was about to explode all over the perfectly manicured lawn. This house was obviously much better taken care of than the one in Nebraska. Here there was no avoiding keeping up appearances. I wondered what the neighbors thought of us, fighting in front of the pristine house that matched two others in sight.

Since Peter was already irritated, I saw no harm in diving right back into the only topic I truly wanted to discuss with him. "Why can't Alice see you?" Peter looked about as inclined to answer as he had before. I barged ahead with my next two questions. "Aren't you curious? Is it your gift?"

"I doubt it's a gift," Peter answered, rolling his eyes and waving an arm as if to brush me off.

"How can you not care?" It was unfathomable. I wanted to learn everything I could about whatever it was that kept Edward and Aro out of my head—what had saved me from Jane's torture—and here he was not giving a crap that he might have the answer.

Peter growled. "You are immensely irritating—maybe that's _your_ gift."

"My gift is like yours," I insisted. I hadn't ever called it anything but a quirk, or a defect, but for some reason I felt defensive about this head of mine, if only because he was insulting it. I had an insane need to prove to him that I was more than what lay on the surface. That he didn't know all of me.

"You're human." It was the first time he'd sounded even remotely invested in the conversation.

"It's still there," I snapped. "It's different, but it's there."

His gaze held mine until I was forced to blink. Though my eyes were closed for only an instant, when they opened again he was fixedly looking away from me. Irritable and confused over the flicker of interest I'd seen in Peter, I crossed my arms with a huff. I didn't understand how something so huge could be of no consequence to him, when something so little—something he shouldn't even care about—could make him seem almost curious. Maybe Peter had just been surprised; Edward had told me so many times that the gifts he and his family had were things that hadn't come to fruition until they had been turned.

Even though I knew there was no point in subtlety, I muttered, "I can see why Alice doesn't like you."

"That feeling is mutual. She's a loud and demanding little thing. I have no patience for her."

I should have let it drop. This argument was getting worse and worse because I refused to stand down, and Peter clearly wasn't capable of walking away without getting his piece in. I had no idea whose fault this was, but for now I was going to blame Peter. "And what about me? What could I possibly have done to offend you so much in less than two weeks?"

He took longer to formulate his response this time. "You run from what scares you. You are weak, because it is easier that way." Peter tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "You don't ask the right questions. You don't strive to understand."

"I am _trying_." I snarled. For a moment I was impressed with myself for sounding so fierce.

"You are looking for the wrong answers. Who you are? That's already decided. It's set in stone. The questions you ask; those are what matters. In examining them, you will find everything you need to know. What you do with that information, _that_ is what defines you." Peter gave a slight shake of his head. "But you won't search for those answers because you're scared. All talk and no follow-through. What do you expect to learn sitting inside with a book?"

I was rattled by his assessment and how dead-on it was. How was I supposed to get anything straight in my head like this? I took a breath, closed my eyes, and promised myself that it wasn't always going to take Peter pointing out my faults for me to realize what a mess I was.

I started spewing excuses. "You're not the one who might have the entire vampire… monarchy, or whatever it is, after you."

"Who says they're not after me, too?" Peter asked, and this time it was me who scoffed. I was starting to learn that Peter liked to stir the pot just to get a reaction. Half of what came out of his mouth was nonsense.

"You're full of it."

"So are you."

"Talking to you is _exhausting!_" He made me feel like my head was going to explode.

"Better toughen up, then."

"You have no idea what I've gone through." My voice cracked, and I couldn't find it in myself to be embarrassed. "You don't know _anything_ about me."

Peter clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. "I had you pegged in five minutes. You may have thrown me a couple of times, but the gist? Yeah, I got that. Do _you_ even know who you are? What builds you? We both know you have no idea, and you're here because you're starting to realize that."

I refused to blink. The truth was that I knew exactly what I was right now; I was Edward's. Everything that was me was all wrapped up in him, and I hated it. I wasn't about to admit that to Peter, though. "I'm an eighteen year old girl thrown into a world where I'm no more than an insect. I'm trying to learn how to survive; how to be okay with what's going to happen to me. I don't need you to remind me that I'm failing."

Peter's head shifted left. "I'm not going to coddle you. You're on your own here. Isn't that what you wanted? Or do you just want to take the training wheels off only to have me run alongside so you don't get hurt?"

I felt defensive and on-edge. I hated how easy it was for Peter to get to me. He already had me raw and cut up into neat, little, cliché pieces all over the front lawn. He made my blood boil. He made me feel weak and worthless by choice; like I kept myself tethered instead of rising above to become something better. The worst part was that I wasn't sure he was wrong.

"I don't need you or anyone else to save me." My words were shaky but strong, and something in them caused Peter to regard me with more scrutiny than before.

"No, what you need to learn is that there is a difference between being helped and being rescued."

"I supposed you have all the answers?"

"Not even close." Peter turned and headed up the driveway. "You coming or not?"

I turned around and walked the other way.

"In a little while then?" Peter called, mocking me. I refused to turn around to look. I kept going; past the end of the driveway and down the street.

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**A/N: Pre-emptive review reply: It may be a little early to start judging Peter ;-P**

**In case you're new to the party, I totally have a twitter. Hit me up at frthelongestday. I'm talkative sometimes. I also like to spoil random parts of my fic without warning or provocation. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Beta'd by sweeneyanne and pre-read by aerobee82 & AlexisDanaan. They make the words all pretty-like. They also make words of their own. You should read them. :-) **

**Don't own Twilight.**

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**Chapter 7**** - All the Harder Words You Have to Know**

The first day went by in near silence. The second wasn't much better.

Peter hung around the house more than he had in Nebraska, but I didn't know what to say to him. The feeling was obviously mutual. Boundaries had been crossed in our last conversation. Part of me could recognize that this was a good thing. We had to know where the lines were if we were going to learn to live with each other for any period of time. The greater, more influential part of me didn't have nearly as much perspective. I wasn't sure Peter cared about crossing lines in the first place.

I wanted to ask Alice, to get her take on this awkwardness coasting through me—but I wasn't sure if she'd leave me be or try to find us, and so our conversations stayed light. This time, I really was on my own. I was sure Alice knew that I hadn't actually wanted her to leave and it almost seemed like she felt guilty for going, but listening to her running commentary as she tracked Jasper down was enough for me to know that I'd done the right thing. Alice deserved to be happy instead of stuck with me while I moped.

The yard was big, and the days beautiful. A deck ran all along the back of the house, and more often than not, if the sun was shining, that's where I went. The house was stifling. There was no air conditioning, no open windows. At least in the yard the heat had the breeze to contend with.

The first day, I'd ventured out front, but then there were neighbors walking by. They waved and asked questions I didn't know how to answer. When an overly friendly red-head—the third woman in two hours to walk by—asked about my husband, I was struck dumb with indecision over whether I should correct her or give in to the hysterics racing through me. I immediately decided that I would avoid these people at all costs. To play Peter off as my husband was absurd, and I wouldn't do it. Besides, I hated introducing myself as Jan.

I dragged my chair into direct sunlight throughout the day, so that if Peter did come out, there would be an uncrossable line separating us; it let me feel like I had some slight control over our distance. Or, it would have, if Peter ever showed his face outside during the daytime.

Peter spent his time inside; in the living room or locked up in one of the bedrooms. Working. Finding people. The term still sent a shiver down my spine and brought with it the memory of Demetri's cold face and red eyes. I didn't like Peter's job at all.

With the proper distance it was easier to see things for how they were. Peter knew better than me. He had perspective and experience, and there was a reason Jasper held him in such close confidence. It made me angry, that steadiness of his, but once I'd managed to find my footing it was easier to see that it wasn't so much because of Peter, but because of me. I wanted that assurance, that confidence, and I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to gain it.

I resolved to try harder; to not make it so easy for Peter to push my buttons.

Once I thawed enough to try for some semblance of normalcy, Peter did as well. Letting my guard down, even if it was just a little, was easier than I'd thought it would be.

The week progressed in a steady rhythm of monotony, boredom, and roasting alive in the Kansas summer. I quickly learned that it was one thing to make strong decisions, it was another entirely to keep hold of the resolve long enough to follow through.

I didn't know what Peter's aversion to air conditioning was, but all it took was one week before I was more than willing to torture it out of him. Even if we hadn't managed to be civil with each other, this would have pushed me over the edge. The machine stood out there in the lawn, taunting me, but completely non-functional. I'd tried everything I could think of.

"It's called companionable silence," Peter said. "And it doesn't work if you're fidgeting every twenty seconds."

For a moment I wondered if he was trying to make me miserable on purpose. Ever since Alice had left, Peter had been more engaging. Meaning that we bickered like four year olds. I wasn't sure if it had to do with the change of location or the absence of her. Regardless, I wasn't sure how I felt about this new version of Peter. I had barely gotten used to the stoic man who reminded me of Jasper before he twisted and turned into this new man that I couldn't figure out anything about. Some days I was sure he hated me. Others, I thought that he was trying to make me angry, just to see what I would do. Jasper was such a liar; now that we were alone, Peter did nothing but invade my space.

"Are you really never comfortable unless someone is talking at you?"

I glared.

"I suppose if it's that important I could go kidnap you a friend," Peter said, sarcasm wound expertly into the offer. "Or buy you a parrot."

"I'm perfectly fine on my own. No kidnapping required; sorry to put a damper on your evening plans." It sounded harsh, even to me. "And the last thing we need is a parrot—with my luck it would pick up your stellar people skills and only stop sulking long enough to throw insults."

"You're so grouchy today."

"I'd be in a better mood if it wasn't one hundred degrees in here. I'm going to melt."

"Humans don't melt." Peter scoffed before adopting a thoughtful expression. "Although I suppose they could. I never tried that one."

If I hadn't already learned my lesson about punching supernatural creatures, I surely would have tried it on Peter.

"It's a figure of speech."

"No shit. If you're that miserable, then why don't you go buy a fan or something?" Peter leaned forward far enough to pull his billfold from his back pocket and tossed it my way. It hit me in chest with a dull thud. Maybe if I had a baseball bat, hitting him wouldn't hurt me. "Go nuts."

I couldn't even begin to decide where to start. Jasper was insane for leaving me here. Peter may have started out quiet, but the more time wore on the more it became apparent that he got some sort of perverse pleasure out of digging at me. Between the heat and my already frayed nerves I was starting to break.

"I won't have you paying my way. I have money of my own." I threw his billfold right back at him. I missed my mark by a few inches. He didn't even try to catch it.

"And when that runs out?" Peter asked, chuckling at the look on my face. He rolled his eyes. "This is where most people would say they'd get a _job_."

My eyes must have been wide as saucers. "You would let me work? I thought the point of this whole _thing_ was that you were supposed to be guarding me."

"I don't give a shit if you want to run around town all day screaming 'I'm Bella Swan, come and get me!'"

"I'm not that stupid."

"I didn't say you were. You must think lowly of me, that you assume I couldn't keep an eye on you while you bag groceries or flip burgers, or whatever menial position you'd find yourself half-qualified for." Peter arched an eyebrow, and I thought that somewhere in our back and forth I might have actually managed to offend him.

Good. He'd offended me quite a bit, too.

"I can do more than bag groceries." We both knew I was lying.

"Then go do it." Peter shrugged, and let the argument of my qualifications drop.

"I assumed that it would make everything more difficult," I said carefully. "That you have your own life you're living, and you wouldn't want to waste so much time following me around when it would be easier to keep me here."

Peter stalked over to my purse and pulled out my wallet. He handed it to me with a scowl. "You don't think this is as shallow as all that, do you? When Jasper told me you needed a new identity, do you think I only made you a driver's license?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," I admitted, turning the leather over in my hands. Not a day went by where something didn't happen to make me feel incredibly naive. I never thought about things like fake identities and what steps went into making them, what their ultimate purposes were.

When Peter spoke again it was quieter and felt more explanatory that confrontational. "It was explained to me that you need some time to sort out your feelings. How are you supposed to do that if you're locked up in a house with only me for company? This isn't a prison. This is a life. Do you not understand that? You're kept here of your own choosing. This cage has no lock."

I stared at him what must have been a whole minute, dumbfounded. I never expected him to say anything like that. His words crashed through my memories, shattering happier moments with this dark perspective.

This cage has no lock. There's no denying that before—in Forks—it did. Maybe this was the real reason why Jasper sent me here, of all places. Trading comfort for freedom. Or maybe I was over-thinking things again.

"Car keys are on the table," Peter said, gesturing toward the front hallway.

My eyes widened as I tried to formulate some sort of response that wouldn't make me sound like an idiot. Not that I was ever able to. Peter was good at twisting around anything to suit his point and trying to keep up with him was hopeless. More often than not, any attempt wound up making me sound like an increasingly foolish little girl. Finally, I gave up trying to sound smart and asked, "You're going to let me use your car?"

The last thing I expected Peter to do was laugh. "Why would I care?"

"I- I'm surprised is all. That you'd let me drive it." I was embarrassed for how off-center he made me with something so simple.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Cullens and their cars."

I cracked a smile before remembering I was angry with him, and wiped it from my face. "I never did understand that, either."

Peter kept his eyes trained on me for an uncomfortable stretch of time, and the moment I looked away and decided to flee, he frowned. "You can take the car whenever you want. You may come and go as you please. You can go get a job, or volunteer, or shop. You can make a valiant attempt to spend all of my money, if that's what you want to do. You're not in hiding, not in the way you're used to. Being here, with me, is not punishment for your past crimes."

I swallowed and tried to formulate some sort of counter-attack; or a response of any kind. I couldn't. There was no reply, because Peter had ripped the curtains framing my vision to shreds in a single breath.

"Is freedom really so foreign to you?"

I had to bite the rude words from the tip of my tongue. I didn't think Peter was trying to be insulting, not this time. In his own way, it was almost like he was trying to help. So instead of calling him an asshole or storming off, I said, "I'm not used to this."

"Believe it or not, I understand," Peter replied after a moment. "I _have_ met Edward, after all."

Maybe the key to coexisting with him in peace laid in not actively trying to keep arguments going. It was too bad that I couldn't let his comment go unchallenged. "Edward only wanted to keep me safe."

"Can you honestly say that the way he went about it was good for you?" Peter asked, stopping my argument in its tracks—because no, I couldn't say that.

"You don't know anything about what happened between us."

"I know enough." Peter shrugged, and went back to whatever he'd been doing on his computer before we'd started talking.

"I love him," I protested. The sentiment was strong, but the words were weak, and both Peter and I knew it.

"So? That doesn't mean you should be together, or that what you had before was good. It only means that you love him."

It was such an odd sentiment to find comfort in, but the notion soothed me in a way I never would have expected. To hear someone else acknowledge that yes, there was love between me and Edward, but that maybe that just wasn't enough... it made me feel so much lighter.

"Charlotte―"

Peter interrupted me immediately, the beginnings of a growl rumbling in his chest. "I have no desire to discuss her."

"What happened to her?" I asked even though I knew I shouldn't have.

Peter's face stilled into a hard and callous expression. I'd never seen him so frigid. "She's gone."

I didn't know if Peter meant that she had left him, or that she'd died, and I didn't ask. It wasn't any of my business. I never should have brought it up in the first place.

"Sorry," I mumbled. Though he'd been brash and unforgiving with me, I felt bad for prying. Still, curiosity ran rampant through my head, and without really meaning to I began to plot another way to find answers. I wanted to know about her, and why she wasn't here; if she was the reason Peter was this way, and if his loss was an omen of what could become of me.

Peter grunted in response, and the room fell quiet around us. For once, it was Peter who broke the silence. "Call me cruel if you want, but the fact of the matter is that you know even less about me than I do about you. We're both running on nothing but assumptions."

"Alright, then," I said, trying to instill that same deep, rumbling tone to my voice that he used so often. "What is it that makes you so strong? Other than being a vampire and a substantial jerk, I don't see much for you to brag about."

"My power lies in doing what others will not." The statement rushed through me with a chill, and I knew Peter wasn't just saying what he believed. He was stating fact. It terrified me, this certainty of his character.

"And you think you're so much better than me because you can say that about yourself?"

"I'm not better than you," Peter said, "but at least I know my strengths."

I had nothing to say back; it was infuriating. I stared at the car keys and tried to figure out how fast I could get to the car and out of the driveway. If I was lucky, maybe I could avoid another mindless chatter-fest with a wandering neighbor.

"Just go."

I swiped the keys from the table and stormed out the front door, my fingers still curled tight around my wallet. I probably wouldn't have gone back for it if it wasn't.

As it turned out, luck wasn't on my side for a swift getaway.

"Oh, if it isn't the elusive Jan!"

I automatically cringed at the name sang out over the lawn, and had to shore up an embarrassing amount of courage before I could turn away from the car. I tried to adopt a friendly face to greet the woman jogging up the driveway, a beagle trotting behind her. Fantastic. "Yeah. Hi, um—"

"Sheila," the woman supplied, unbothered.

I tried to smile at least somewhat convincingly. She might have been the nicest woman in the world, but I couldn't stand her long enough to find out. "Sheila. How's it going?"

"Oh, you know, can't complain. What about you? How's that husband of yours?" An entirely too curious grin spreading over her face. I kind of wanted to slap her. No one should be that perky. "We never see him around much. He must work all the time."

I planned to roll my eyes and ignore her, but the sudden opportunity to cause Peter some grief was too tempting to let pass.

"Yeah. He's been putting in a lot of extra hours." I leaned in. "Frustrated, you know. Because of the infertility."

Her mouth dropped open in shock—for my candid answer or the value of gossip I'd dropped on her, I didn't know—and I used her distraction to get myself into the car and turn over the engine. I waved before backing down the driveway; Sheila had barely managed to knock herself from her stupor when I shifted gears to drive and took off down the street. Maybe Peter wouldn't be bothered by news I'd planted with her, but I couldn't help but hope he would be. It'd serve him right.

I blamed the heat when I irrationally decided that I would fix the air conditioner myself instead of getting a new one or hiring the help, even though I didn't have the slightest idea how. The far too helpful salesman at the hardware store was to blame for talking me into buying more tools that I could have possibly needed to do it. Three books, endless tools, and another two dozen items littering the bottom of my shopping cart later, and I told myself that this was for Peter's house anyway, and he was crazy for not making sure the damn thing worked in the first place. There wasn't even a twinge of guilt when I used the credit card stuck in my wallet next to my fake and insulting driver's license instead of my own reserve of cash.

I didn't even know who I was trying to prove a point to anymore, though my confusion didn't stop me from examining the circumstances I'd found myself in from every angle I could think of the whole way back to the house.

It was a nice town I'd found myself in. It looked like a small community—the downtown area was only a handful of blocks, and the park stretched further than I could have imagined, with a large library overlooking it. I made note of the area, anxious to explore. I hadn't allowed myself to consider the surroundings before; now that I realized these were all places I could go, that I didn't have to stick to Peter's side day in and day out, I found myself thinking about all the things I could do in this new town. Peter was right; the taste of unrestricted freedom was foreign and strange, but I didn't think it would take long to embrace. I was already starting to get the hang of it again.

I slowed to five miles below the speed limit once I'd passed the security checkpoint leading into the neighborhood and willed myself to present a calm and collected exterior. I'd had enough of making a fool out of myself.

I should have taken the bags in two trips, but instead I grabbed them all and stumbled my way through the front door, kicking it shut behind me.

Peter arched an eyebrow from his seat on the couch. "What, did you buy out the entire store?"

"Don't make too much fun of me; you paid for it."

"I didn't think you had it in you. Looks heavy," Peter said, nodding to the bags currently trying to rip my shoulders out of their sockets.

"You're not even going to pretend to help, are you?" I asked, instantly hating that I assumed he would.

"Nope. I've got a lot of work to do. You know, because I'm so distraught over my sperm count." For a second I thought he might be angry with me, but then I caught a quirk to his lips and amusement shining in his eyes. Apparently Peter could take as well as he gave.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. You have no idea how pushy those women are. It was the only way to escape." I left out the part about how my comment was more than a little attempt at revenge for all the things he'd been saying to me. I was sure he'd already figured that part out anyway.

"I've got an idea." Peter let out an amused huff.

I dumped the bags on the floor by the back door, and settled on the couch with the books.

"What are those for?" Peter asked. I glanced up to see that he hadn't lost his humor at the situation.

"I'm going to fix your defunct air-conditioner," I said, managing to sound far more confident than I actually was.

"You are, huh?" Peter asked. I said nothing. "Well, good for you."

It sounded like he actually meant it.

* * *

The next morning found me out in the backyard again, staring down the broken air-conditioner. The books from the hardware store were stacked neatly at my side. Realistically I knew that I didn't have a chance at fixing this on my own, but I had a nagging itch under my skin to _do_ something.

I got pretty far, though it surely took me much longer than it should have. I sat back on my heels and examined my work, and I felt that glimmer of pride I'd been hoping for. It felt good, even if I was at a loss as to what to do next. The compressor was far from fixed, but at least I'd helped it along.

Two of hours of mindless tinkering later, the sun casted a long shadow over the yard, and Peter made an appearance. Once I got over my shock at seeing him outside at all it became apparent he meant to help, and it was with a grudging acceptance that I let him. Maybe this was one of those things he'd insisted fell further on to the side of being helped rather than being saved. It was only an air-conditioner, after all. There was nothing life-threatening or substantially important about it.

We worked quietly—mostly Peter worked, while I constantly referred to the books in an attempt to keep up with what he was doing.

"You can ask questions, you know," Peter said, double checking the fuses I'd already seen to before moving on to the coil, and what took me a moment to identify as the fins.

"I really hope this isn't knowledge I have to put to use again." I sighed and wiped the sweat from my brow. I glanced back at the book.

"Oh, so this isn't practice for a new career?"

"No." I glared, but I wasn't sincere in it. "I get the feeling that would become quite the talk around here. These people are far too interested in us. You are aware they all think we're married, right?"

"What did you think they were going to assume?"

"I don't know," I muttered. "Seems like a bit of a stretch. We're not even wearing rings."

"Maybe they're just trying to be nice. They might actually think you're my mistress." Peter brushed the grime from his hands before checking over his work. The parts I'd done required far less skill or certainty, but like him, I verified it was all done correctly, if only for something to do.

"Funny."

"I'll check the evaporator in the morning," Peter said quietly. It took me far too long to figure out what he was talking about. I'd been so focused on this part—the part I was sure I could at least try to fix it myself—that I'd nearly forgotten there was still another component to look at.

I stood when he did, and though I really didn't want to, said, "Thanks."

"Ah, see? You're learning." Peter smirked and headed into the house. I hated following him around. "Next time, just ask for help. It's not nearly as wounding as you seem to think."

"Is it hard for you, like it is for the Cullens?" I blurted out the question before I'd thought it through, and rushed to clarify. "Being around me, I mean. Edward always said it was difficult."

Peter studied me from a yard away and answered carefully. "No. But I'm very well fed, and they are…"

"They abstain," I answered for him, only for Peter to shake his head and correct me.

"They are anomalies, and the price they pay for a clear conscience is high." I wasn't sure if he meant for me to hear the next part. "The burdens I carry are quite different."

His phrasing sent shivers through me. I didn't want to think about things like who or what to kill and what sort of effect it might have, especially not when Peter was staring so knowingly. "What kind of price?"

Peter watched me out of the corner of his eye as he answered, "If you were to tally up my body count, you'd find I fall far short of each and every one of the Cullens."

"It's not the same…" I sounded every bit as unsure as I felt.

"No? It's still a beating heart—a mind gone silent and a creature no longer walking this earth. It's still killing. Just because an animal can't plead for mercy doesn't mean it can't scream."

Five more seconds of this conversation and I was going to be sick all over him. I had to change the subject. I couldn't let him talk about this any more. It was too bad my mouth had already run away with another question. "How many?"

The door slamming shut behind me nearly startled me out of my skin. Peter turned around a few paces into the house to face me and said, "I'm sure you already know that answer, at least where the Cullens are involved, so I'm going to assume your real question is how many people do I kill?"

I nodded and hoped that whatever his answer was, it wouldn't shatter the sliver of control I had over myself.

"Twelve," Peter bit out. "Twelve a year. No exceptions. So, tell me, who's the real monster out there in the dark? Me or Edward?"

"Edward isn't a monster," I insisted. It was second nature to rebuff any insinuation that he was.

"And what about me?" Peter asked. He arched a brow and crossed his arms, ready to debate this point until he either won or decided I was too naive to argue with.

I had nothing to lose, so I told him the truth. "I haven't figured that part out yet."

Whatever it was he'd expected me to say, that wasn't it. He nodded and relaxed his posture. "Fair enough."

"May I ask you something else?" I called out, a little too loudly, when Peter started heading toward the living room. It felt like I had a chance to get some actual answers out of him, and I didn't want to squander the opportunity. Still, I never could figure out how he was going to react to anything. Hopefully he'd continue with this easier attitude.

Peter nodded.

"Jasper told me that there were two places he could trust that I would be safe." I paused long enough to swallow down my apprehension. "One of them was Volterra, and I don't understand why. He said that if the situation was different, he'd send me there."

Peter took nearly a minute to respond. "The Volturi are the most powerful coven in the world. Jasper has many connections; you could not possibly fathom how far his influence spreads. They would do him that favor."

"But they're after me. That man in charge, Aro, Edward said he wanted me for the guard. I can't imagine being safe there from anything. To trust those kinds of people with my life? I've tried to understand, but I can't wrap my head around it."

"If they want you, then they would keep you, no matter who opposed. You fall into the rare category of what the Volturi want, and what Jasper wants to keep safe. Sending you to Volterra would have worked very well, had they not been expecting you to honor the agreement you made."

"And why you?" I asked.

This time Peter answered immediately. "Because even if someone thought to look here, they wouldn't get to you."

"I don't know what you mean," I confessed after far too long trying to sort out his meaning.

"You should learn to accept that confusion is nothing more than another facet of life."

I ignored his evasion. If he wasn't willing to explain, then he wasn't going to. That didn't mean I wasn't going to keep asking. "Is this about your gift? Is that why Jasper thought I'd be safe with you?"

"Jasper _knew_ you'd be safe with me."

"Why don't you ever answer the questions I ask?" I wanted to be irritated with him; instead the whole thing came off as amusing. It was like a game.

"Why don't you ever ask the questions that will give you the information you actually need?"

I thought on that one for a while. Peter had a condescending and goading look to him, like he'd figured out what exactly it was that I wanted to know before I had, and was trying to lead me there. It took me a minute; he noticed the instant I connected the dots. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because you trust Jasper." Peter smirked, and I thought he must be teasing me.

"I'm not sure how applicable the transit of property is in this situation."

"You're sharper than most humans," Peter commented. His gaze was more assessing than anything else―like he'd only just realized that there might be something about me that could interest him. "How unusual."

My immediate reaction was to be offended—it usually was with Peter—but I schooled my expression and forced down the outrage his comment brought out in me. He was baiting me, playing games. I was starting to get the hang of it.

I'd made more than one attempt to identify the armor Peter wrapped himself in, but I hadn't realized until now that his hard edges and words were the first line of defense. Even after all this time with only him for company, I still didn't have the faintest clue what kind of a man he was. All I could say for certain about Peter was the surface—the part he let me see—and in this I finally found a part of him I could relate to.

I felt the beginnings of a grin cross over my face. "You're very bothered by scrutiny, aren't you? That's why you play with my words and turn everything around. You'd rather the focus be on me."

"You do the same," Peter pointed out.

"I didn't think we'd ever find that we have something in common."

"We have much in common."

I angled my head to the right and tried to pull as much information from his expression as I could. Peter didn't give much away, but I hadn't been looking closely enough. There was definitely more to him than met the eye. "You always have to have the last word, huh?"

"It wouldn't bother you so much if you weren't the same way."

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe you could let me have this one."

The corner of his lip twitched. "Alright."

I decided right there that no, Peter really wasn't all that bad. He was pushy and got far too much enjoyment out of twisting my brain into a pretzel; he was more than a little apathetic toward me, and I was still pretty sure that if he had the choice between me being here and being gone, he'd choose the latter—but he had his moments of sincerity, of humor.

I stood and stretched my arms before heading toward the stairs for yet another night of tossing and turning.

"Bella?" Peter called. I turned my head to see a conflicted musing flutter over his features. "He wouldn't have actually taken you there. Jasper would never let the Volturi have you, no matter how dire the situation became. He wouldn't risk it."

I wanted to ask why, but that could only lead to more misdirection, and I'd had enough of roundabout conversations today. Besides, his small concession felt like he was offering a truce, and I was anxious to accept. Still, I had to wonder, "How could you know that?"

"Because I know him. To Jasper there is nothing more important than those he cares for." Peter paused, and then took a step closer, as if he were about to tell me a secret. "The last time I saw him before he brought you to my door―and mind you, that wasn't all that long ago―only Alice had garnered that respect. Don't take it for granted."

"What about you?" I asked before I could think not to.

Peter clenched his jaw, and I could pinpoint every step along the tumble he made back into that stoic and aloof man I'd encountered when I'd first met him. "That's different."

I couldn't tell if he meant that in a bad way or not.

* * *

**A/N: Some awesome person nominated Divided for best Peter/Bella in the non-canon awards. Check them out: thenon-canonawards . blogspot . com . au/**

**There's some great fics and authors nominated, and I'm so flattered to be included :-)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Made all pretteh-like by sweeneyanne, aerobee82, and AlexisDanaan.**

**In the wake of this whole crazy fic pulling thing, I'll mention that all my fics can be found on TwiWrite. At some point or another I'll be putting PDFs of the completed ones up on my blog. So expect that sometime between now and 2014. *snort***

**Don't own Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - What My Future Looks Like**

Before my eyes, summer gave way to the muted tones of fall. A whole month had passed, and I had little to show for it but an air-conditioner I'd managed to fix mostly by myself and a surly vampire roommate who had taken to fighting me for the honor of who could come up with the most absurd and irritating story to tell the neighbors.

It started small. If he were anyone else, Peter would have let my little comment to Sheila go and written it off as teenage immaturity. Instead, he upped the ante. It wasn't so bad, at first. One night Peter went around putting up flyers for a neighborhood tea social, offering me as hostess. I retaliated by signing him up to coach Little League.

That should have been it; Peter wasn't bothered by backing out of the commitments I'd made for him, and I'd easily sidestepped the social, claiming he was far too moody to have guests over. Unfortunately, Peter didn't share this opinion. A week later found me telling all the potential customers of what was apparently my new dog walking business that Peter's hair was thinning a bit on top, and I couldn't possibly find the time to deal with him and take care of their pets. By all measures, we should have been even again, but then Peter went around one evening telling everyone he ran into that I'd started drinking because my American Idol audition had been rejected, and there was no way I could let that slide.

The next week I told Sheila that Peter had begun to channel all of his inner angst into an obsession over keeping the lawn cut to precisely two inches. It worked rather brilliantly. Peter was annoyed—which was the point—and we fell into that precious downtime between moves. That is, until four days later when Peter made a ridiculous show of measuring sections of the front lawn with a ruler. I couldn't decide if it was more or less fun because he was playing along. At least the neighbors stopped bothering us so much. Nobody wanted to socialize with a drunk who didn't realize she couldn't sing and an obsessive compulsive with baby-fever.

In the end I decided that I had to be the one to let it go, and Peter had given me a good place to relinquish the match. If I didn't end this we'd probably be going at it forever. Without the distraction of trying to one-up each other the waters calmed. I stopped spending all of my time in the house, and as a result I found it was much easier to deal with the world as a whole, and with Peter as a companion.

I quickly discovered that there was a significant advantage to living with someone I didn't want to spend much time with, and that was that it got me out into the world. Not that I would ever admit it. I was determined not to let my cards show. Peter didn't need confirmation of how well he had me pegged, or that his terrible behavior was actually good for me in a roundabout way. I didn't want him to know that these thoughts he caused to rise and bubble within me were the some of the things I'd been searching for. Every day a new one occurred; words, phrases, various strings of words that defined me—and in this I found the most irritating benefit of Peter's harsh truths: distractions. He kept me so focused on myself that I barely had time to think about Edward, and I wasn't ready for that sort of narrowed perspective. A big part of me wanted to sit around the house and mope for another few weeks, and Peter wouldn't let that happen. There wasn't time to hurt. He made the walls close in on me; the house too small. I didn't know if he did it on purpose or not.

I was still sure there was a reason Jasper had sent me here, despite all the choices he must have had—something hidden beneath all the obvious. I was positive most of it had to do with what Peter and I had discussed the day we fixed the air-conditioner. This was freedom; it was hard and uncomfortable, but it was something I needed to experience. Still, there was a voice nagging in the back of my head that the simplest explanation wasn't the whole story, and I began to wonder if Jasper had known I'd need someone like Peter to give voice to all my insecurities so I could break past them.

My favorite place in this new sort of wilderness became the benches scattered around a wide pond at the park. It was hot, but it was also sunny; fluffy, white clouds drifted through the sky and the wind rustling through the leaves made for calming background noise. Andover had nice weather. The playground off to the side teemed with children, and the constant hum of laughter never failed to make me smile. This place was relaxing, and it was mine. There were no vampires or werewolves here; only the sun, the grass, and the breeze.

The first time I'd come here I was nearly overwhelmed. Not because of the expansive space or throngs of people, just because there were so many options. The library sat on a corner, a sign proudly declared a fishing area up and to the right. I figured I should work up to that one; I knew that the moment the words had registered in my brain I was going to be fighting them back. Fishing. I could go fishing. Instead, I headed for the duck pond. Part of my mind considered it the wading pool, or training wheels.

I told Peter I was going to the zoo, something he found particularly repellant. He knew I was lying, the same way I knew that he followed me—but he was hidden in the shade somewhere, barely a shadow in my peripheral, and it was easy to pretend he wasn't there. I didn't think I could have found him if I tried, and I didn't want to.

There was something soothing about sitting by the water and trying to break down Peter into something I could understand; if only because I was sure he'd been doing the same to me ever since I appeared on his doorstep. When I'd first met him he was quiet, rigid, and cautious. He still was, but as time wore on he started to show more. With Alice he'd been a little mocking, condescending, and now, with me, he was still different. He still mocked, but there was an undercurrent present ever since we left Nebraska. It felt like I'd managed to draw his attention. I wasn't sure what that meant.

The weather began to shift and change with the beginning of a new season.

The first cloudy day, I stayed in. I didn't want to make it easy for Peter to follow me. I was going to have to reevaluate this priority soon, though. Peter and I had settled into something of a routine. We still argued, but there was less force; less sincerity to his pointed comments. Confined to the house with nothing to do, every word and gesture became more intense.

It was me who was being overly aggressive, not Peter, and I knew it. It was easier to blame him for the restlessness clawing through my legs and walls closing in on me. By mid-afternoon the house was so stifling that I gave up on my show of force; I didn't care that it was cloudy or that a steady mist was starting to spray the windows.

Peter said nothing when I left. He was probably sick of me being in the house, too. Halfway down the block the mist turned into rain, and I kept on going. The park was different without people everywhere. The sunshine made this place safe, gave it a comforting vibe. In the rain, everything was wrong.

Grey clouds raced across the sky. The rain that fell from them was cool and chased away the sticky mess of the summer heat. The falling water beat shallow waves into the surface; it was hypnotizing. I probably should have gone back to the house, but there was no lightning, no thunder. There was only me sitting alone on a park bench, staring at the ripples.

I thought about Emmett's emphatic and kind words to me before I left, and of Rosalie's quiet suggestions. I'd spent so long concentrating on what was here and the biggest pieces of what I'd left behind—Charlie and Edward—that I hadn't given due consideration to all the other people I'd loved and left in Forks. It felt massively unfair, and disrespectful. I'd learned hundreds of lessons since I left, and this was yet another. I added short-sightedness and tunnel-vision to the list of flaws I was keeping track of in my head.

"You're going to make yourself sick," Peter said. I turned my head to see him standing at the end of the bench, his hands shoved in his pockets. I knew he'd follow me. Something about his stance was less confident than I'd gotten used to. He wasn't on his turf any more.

"I doubt it. A little rain never hurt anyone."

A moment passed. "You look troubled."

"What do you care?" I asked. His interest in my state was unnerving.

Peter took a seat next to me on the bench and stretched his legs in front of him. "I won't lie to you and say that I think all of your problems are valid in the face of what's happening, but if you need to talk about it, I'll listen."

I imagined the look on my face was quite comical. Peter offering a supportive ear was about the last thing I would have expected. I was sure he had an angle. "Why?"

Peter shrugged. "Seems like you could use it. I'll even try not to comment, if you want."

The truth was that I did want to talk about it, very much; I just wasn't sure if I wanted Peter to be the one listening. I didn't know if I would be able to deal with his opinion of my behavior in the most defining moments of my life. Then again, maybe that was exactly what I needed. I took a breath—the taste of humidity thick—shored up my courage, and began.

"There was a fight, in July. A woman blamed me for her mate's death; or maybe she blamed Edward, I never could figure it out. It doesn't really matter, she wanted to kill me either way. She made all these vampires thinking she could destroy the Cullens and get to me." I had to pause in order to sort out my thoughts. I hadn't ever had to explain this to anyone. I'd never had anyone to talk to who wasn't already embroiled in my chaos.

"I'm guessing that didn't work out so well for her," Peter said once my silence had stretched too long for his liking.

"No. She didn't know about Jasper. He never told you any of this?"

"I heard bits and pieces. We're not the chat about our day types. Wish I could have been there, it would have been fun, though I don't think Jasper minded that I wasn't. He always has enjoyed playing with the odds. How many did he get?"

"I don't know," I admitted, shifting my gaze from the lake to Peter. I hadn't ever considered asking. "A lot. He got bitten."

Peter shook his head. "Of course he did."

"When it was over, there was this girl," I said. My voice sounded flat and apathetic, even to me, and it felt like a travesty that I couldn't even inject enough feeling into the words to convey how this one event had eviscerated me. I looked back out toward toward the rain falling on the pond. "She was so little, and she looked... I remember thinking that it was like looking in a mirror."

Peter said nothing, but then again, I hadn't expected him to.

"She gave up. Surrendered. She didn't want to fight, and they killed her anyway."

"The Cullens?" Peter asked.

"The Volturi."

"Oh." He didn't sound surprised. Why would he? That was what the Volturi did. They kept the secret; they ensured everyone played by the rules.

"And then..." I choked on my words. My throat was swollen and my head ached with the pressure that rose up in me whenever I gave in and thought of this. "It was like she was never there. She was just... she was gone. I watched her die. It was like I was the only one who really _saw_ it, Jasper was the only one who really _felt_ it, and then the world kept on going. Nothing changed."

Peter's fingers began to drum out a steady rhythm against the park bench. I paused, listening to the taps, and I desperately wished that he would have some brilliantly insightful perspective on the matter that would somehow make it all okay. He didn't. "The first one, that's always the hardest."

"I never want something like that to be easy."

"Is that why you left?" Peter asked. He sounded far more interested than I'd assumed he was. It was so strange, sitting out in the rain, having an actual conversation with Peter.

"Sort of," I answered. "That was… that was the beginning of why I left."

Peter struggled for a moment with what he wanted to say. He stilled his fingers and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I did, but I didn't know what I wanted to say. Still, I felt I should give him something, because it didn't seem like the easiest offer for him to make. "I left because I'm not done yet. I'm not ready for the future that was waiting for me in Forks."

"You mean Edward?" Peter asked, and I could only nod. "You don't want what he does."

I wasn't sure where he'd gotten that from, but confusion didn't make it sting any less. "That's not true."

"It is. Edward will never change. Do you realize that?" He paused for a moment, and continued with a stronger tone. "He may love you, but he wants you to live. He does not want to take what you are willing to give him. How could you ever be equals? He put you up so high he could never reach."

I'd always considered it to be the other way around.

Peter tilted his head and spoke with a hint of irritation. "It really is too bad you're scared of heights."

I swallowed back all the questions that one statement brought to the front of my mind, closed my eyes, and asked the one person who might understand the question that haunted me the most. "We only wanted to be together. How was it not enough?"

"Why do you always ask such pointless questions?"

It was both a response and a challenge. An opportunity for me to stand up and voice the crux of my turmoil. This time, I took it.

"Edward wants me as I am, and I don't want to be this person." Unbidden tears pricked at the corners of my vision and, with effort, I managed to hold them back. The last thing I wanted was for Peter to catch me crying. "What if I get myself to a place where I'm happy—where I can say I'm proud of myself—and he doesn't want me anymore?"

"Then I guess you'd just have to keep marching on."

Finally, I asked the one thing that I'd never allowed myself to think before. "When it's settled, what if I don't want him?"

"So, that's why you're here, instead of back home."

"I guess," I said, feeling detached from just about everything in the world except the rippling water in front of us. "If I stayed, if I kept him close while trying to figure myself out…" I didn't have the slightest idea how to end that sentence. Peter kept silent, even when I'd stopped talking for nearly a minute. I chanced a look to see him staring out at the water, lost in some thought I couldn't begin to guess. Finally, I said, "I left because I'm scared. Who I am now is not who I want to be forever, even if it is with Edward."

"Astute," Peter murmured.

"Confused," I corrected.

"Sometimes admitting you don't have all the answers, that's the smartest thing a person can do." He reminded me so much of Jasper in that moment, it was unnerving.

"And what answers are you lacking?" I wondered, even though I knew he wasn't going to give me a straight answer.

"More things I do not wish to talk about." Peter fell silent for far too long, and when he spoke again I startled in my seat. "For the record, I understand why you did it. Why you left. I don't think it was wrong of you. I know it means little—we don't know each other—but I thought you might like to hear it."

We sat together, quiet, and though I had reservations about sharing this last part, I did it anyway. "I wish I could forget it. All of it. It makes me feel like a horrible person; everyone deserves to be remembered."

To my surprise, Peter had nothing disparaging to say. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him press his lips together and nod. "Like I said; the first one is always the hardest. It never leaves you."

"Do you have scars?" I asked. "Like Jasper?"

Peter regarded me for a moment before answering. "Depends on what kind of scars you're talking about. Teeth marks ripped into my skin? I've got nothing on Jasper there."

"I have one," I said quietly, running my fingers over my wrist. "It stings sometimes. The skin there is colder."

Peter nodded. "I noticed. From your joyride to Arizona with Jasper, right?"

"Joyride isn't exactly the word I'd use, but yeah. I used to imagine that when Edward changed me, he'd bite me here." My fingers ran along the bumps again. "That he'd erase that moment. He'd wash it away and leave a different mark. Pretty silly, huh?"

"You didn't want to keep the reminder," Peter said.

"No, I didn't. But I think I do now. I want to remember everything, good and bad."

"There will come a time where you won't have much of a choice," Peter said, obviously referring to my impending transformation from human into something I still didn't fully understand. I didn't want to think about that right now. "Why are you so afraid of what is already written for you?"

Peter couldn't have known how deep his words would sting; or maybe he did, and that was the point. I never could tell with him. Peter didn't ask the easy questions.

I needed a change of subject.

"What did you mean, when you said Jasper likes to play with the odds?" There was a churning feeling in my gut that insisted I didn't want to know, but I wasn't any good at listening to intuition when it came to Peter's cryptic half-answers.

"You didn't figure it out?" he asked, and I shook my head. Peter scoffed, and regained his abrasive edge. "You really thought you got away from him in Arizona because of your cunning?"

When he put it like that it sounded incredibly stupid. "He let me go, didn't he?"

"Of course he did."

I was hurt and angry, but I didn't know who the swell should be directed at—that all hinged on my next question. "Why?"

Peter needed no time to gather his explanation. "Because he knew you were determined, and he thought you had the right to do what you could in order to protect your mother; that if you went, it would end sooner. He knew that you were willing to use yourself as bait, and that the rest of them were too blinded by their love to be able to see the advantage. He let you go because he thought it best, for all involved."

"Do you think he knew I'd get hurt?"

"I think he believed it would be the catalyst Edward needed to change you."

It made sense, thought I never would have recognized it until now. Jasper had always been on my side in this argument, in one way or another. In the end it didn't matter much why. His motives were probably more than a little selfish, but he'd made up for it.

"Do you believe in fate?" I wondered after a moment. I brushed my wet hair from my face and turned to watch him.

"No."

"How about soul-mates?" I prodded.

"No, not those either." Peter shook his head, whether the action was part of his answer, or irritation with me for asking such a childish question, I didn't know.

"Why not?"

"I believe in love, that sometimes there is a bond that spans between people that supersedes every other connection—but to have an other half, only one person in all existence that will compliment you… what a sad notion that is."

From what little I'd managed to piece together, Peter had met and lost the love of his life, and yet he still believed there might be someone else out there he could feel that way about. In a twisted way it was almost romantic. When I told him so, he chuckled.

"I have my moments."

The conversation lulled with the last remnant of sun from behind the clouds. I supposed Peter wasn't terrible company. I stood when the streetlights came alive with a buzz, and without a word we walked back the way we'd come. He'd given me a lot to think about, out in the rain, but still there were more questions. Peter was a puzzle, and one I never had enough pieces to figure out.

* * *

The first time I was forced to acknowledge exactly what sort of vampire Peter was, I was almost disappointed in myself. I knew he hunted and I knew that he killed people, but I hadn't ever had to stare that truth in the face.

There was no production. No glaring difference to this day from any other. All that happened was that I woke up tired for the fourth day in a row, and not five minutes after I emerged from my bedroom he walked in the front door. He had to have planned it. Peter was always careful to keep himself firmly in the middle of two extremes; starving and sated. I'd thought it was because he was very aware of his limits, and he didn't want to take any risks, but the way he stared at me with narrowed and vibrant eyes made me think that maybe there was a little more to it.

I'd never bore witness to the immediate aftermath before, and it bothered me less than I would have liked. Apparently it was only once I'd learned names and faces that a chill set through me. I was such a hypocrite.

I almost asked if he'd gone for a stroll through a neighboring suburb, but thought better of it. I'd always assumed this kind of thing would upset me. There was no end to the lessons I had to learn. Apparently anonymous death was something I could deal with, or it could have been that I didn't expect much else from Peter. After getting to know him a little—the small amount he let me, anyway—there were few things I could say for certain. One of them was that above all else, Peter was careful. He was precise, and everything he did had a method and reason behind it. After figuring out that, I couldn't believe that an hour earlier he'd been prowling the streets and killing at random. Nothing Peter did was ever random, and maybe that made all the difference.

He stared at me a moment, waiting for some sort of reaction, but I didn't have one for him. "Did you sleep?"

Peter being vocal in his concern for my well-being was still strange. I hadn't realized he cared.

"Not really." It was a good thing Charlie had gotten me so used to coffee back home. Peter kept staring from his seat in the living room, and I didn't have it in me to unravel his intentions today. "What? No commentary today?"

"Guess not." He shrugged, that speculative look still all over his face. "I'm not really running on assumptions anymore."

"I hate it when you stay stuff like that." I scowled and headed toward the deck with my coffee. "There's never any way to respond."

My apathy haunted me all morning and afternoon. For once, Peter let me have it.

It was one of the quieter days; the kind where neither of us talked much, lost in our own thoughts. I went walking around the neighborhood for a bit, but wound up right where I started, thumbing through a book I'd read a hundred times, itching in my skin.

Peter stood, picked up his computer, and came to sit next to me on the couch. He handed his laptop to me, and pointed to the screen once I had it settled on my thighs. "You need to go through the security camera footage from these transactions, looking for this man." He pointed at a mug shot taped to the right side of the screen.

"What are you talking about?"

"If you would be quiet and listen, you'd find out."

There was no way to win with him, so I shut my mouth and glared at the computer.

"I already know he was in the area this video is from, what I need to do now is figure out where he went. If he's using a credit card or cash, what kind of car he's driving."

"Couldn't you—I don't know—sniff him out?"

Peter looked at me like I was a particularly special brand of stupid and insane. "That would be like trying to figure out how each cow in a herd smelled, and then tracking it through a sewer."

I frowned the best I was able to fake. His analogy was actually kind of funny. "Did you just call me a cow?"

"If it makes you feel better, he'd be what I assume a McDonald's burger is like." Peter nodded to the screen, far too amused with this comparison. "I'm guessing you'd be steak."

"I can't figure out if I'm insulted or flattered." It didn't matter which; they were sort of the same things when it came to Peter.

"Would you like me to pay you for this?" Peter asked, gesturing at the computer.

This time I grinned. "Are you offering me a job?"

"If you want it."

My amusement died out a little. "You don't need to hire someone to do this for you."

"No," Peter agreed, "but if you find it half as tedious as I do, maybe you will actually get some sleep."

Peter had a way of making me feel uncomfortable with kind gestures veiled in sarcasm and insults. I needed to change the subject. "Why do you work at all? You couldn't possibly need to with your stellar real estate strategy."

Peter shrugged. "What else am I going to do? I like to work."

I pressed a few keys experimentally, still unsure. "I don't know how I feel about doing this; helping you hunt your target."

"Would you feel better if you knew what this man has done? I'll tell you, but keep in mind that you have enough trouble with nightmares as it is."

It felt like he was baiting me, and that irrational need to prove myself to him came flaring up. If I had learned anything from our brief interaction this morning, it was that while I'd managed to remove the majority of my delusions of the vampire world, I was still holding on to nearly all of my human ones. I still wasn't seeing things clearly, not if I could watch Peter saunter into the house after killing someone and be okay with it when something far more understandable had been the catalyst for leaving Edward.

"Tell me."

I immediately wished I'd kept my mouth shut. To his credit, Peter obviously got no pleasure from relaying the chain of events that led this man's picture to be taped to his computer. It was a sick tale, and by the time he finished I was more than a little ill. I could feel myself toeing at the line I'd drawn for myself, considering whether or not I would cheer or grieve if Peter did to him what I assumed he would.

"What happens when you catch him?" I asked. If Peter said he was going to kill him, I didn't think I'd be able to help, no matter what this man had done. No matter that I thought he deserved it. I'd seen his face. If I helped Peter kill him, he'd haunt me forever.

Peter seemed to understand this. "He's a bail jumper, Bella. When I find him, he'll go back to the police."

"I didn't really get the impression you were very selective about the cases you took on," I said, still waffling. Always waffling.

"I'm not." Peter agreed. "But I wouldn't ask you to help with something that I knew went against your moral fiber. I'm not that horrible of a person, you know."

"Do you blame me for being skeptical? I don't know what kind of man you are, and you're not very forthcoming."

Peter stared at the wall across the room, thinking. I started tabbing through the videos on the computer as I waited for him to decide what to say.

"What do you want to know?"

"I've already asked most the things I'm curious about. You just don't want to answer."

The cushions shifted under his weight. He picked the least personal topic. "I don't know why Alice can't see me. She's never been able to, and I've never cared why that is. It's not important."

"So, it's not your gift then?" I asked, and Peter shook his head.

"It's not anything that I'm doing. I'm a blind-spot for her. Contrary to what she's probably led you to believe, she does have some."

"Do you think it's the same with me? With Edward and Aro not being able to hear my thoughts?"

Peter leaned back against the couch cushions, seemingly more at ease now that the topic had shifted away from his own quirk and onto mine. "I'm inclined to believe that no, it's not the same. With me, it's this one thing. For you, it's a multitude. Even if it were only Edward and Aro, I'd have suspicions. Add in Jane and there's too much evidence for it to be a coincidence. There's a common denominator. You don't let these things get into your head, and that means there is something else at play."

"Like what?" I asked, angling my body toward his without realizing, the computer temporarily forgotten in favor of this more relevant conversation.

"I don't know. There's no way to tell, not until you're changed." Peter tilted and turned his head to get a better look at me. Not that he needed it. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he wasn't human. As long as I avoided looking him in the eye, that is. "Does that bother you? Not having a concrete answer?"

"A little." Peter quirked a skeptical brow at me. "Okay, a lot. I just want to know what's going on. I want an explanation, and I want to understand it."

"These are things you can worry about later. A potential gift that may or may not manifest— why do you waste your energy on it? Nothing you can do now is going to change what will happen."

I began clicking through the videos on the computer again in an effort to get any amount of distance from Peter's far too insightful question. "It feels like it's important."

True to his nature, Peter closed the conversation with something neither helpful nor soothing. "Maybe it is, but there's only one way to find out." And with that he left me with his laptop and my chaotic thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I was the suck at replying to reviews this time, and I'm sorry for that. Bad me. My only excuse is that I went all crazy writing a one-shot for The Hunger Games and then went all crazy again and then...yeah, just repeat that about fifteen times.**

**I want to to give a GINORMOUS thank you to everyone who voted in the non-canon awards! Divided took 2****nd**** place in the Peter/Bella category! :D**

**Beta'd by sweeneyanne and preread by aerobee82 & AlexisDanaan, all of whom are probably on the verge of killing me for being such a whacko.**

**Don't own Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Drawing Near**

I liked September in Kansas a lot more than I'd liked August, mostly because by the time the first of the month rolled around Charlie and I had started talking again. It wasn't just mindless phone calls with updates once a week anymore; there was actual conversation. It made me ill, that half of what he believed was a lie. It was both the easiest and hardest part of my routine. I hadn't considered how much I would miss him, but without the guise of endless time to figure out how we fit into each other's lives, we talked easier, and in that perverse way our situation was kind of wonderful. I didn't know how I'd ever managed to convince myself that it would be easy to leave him.

Charlie never asked when I was coming home, and for that I was grateful. At least there was someone in my life who didn't persistently ask me questions they knew I was unable to answer—but then Charlie mentioned that my birthday was coming up, and I realized that I hadn't really spelled it out for him. I hadn't told him how far from ready I was to come home.

It wasn't strictly accurate, but the only thing I could think to say was, "I got a job."

"Bella…" Charlie said, displeasure clear in his tone.

I wanted to take it back, to tell him I was just kidding and would be home soon—but I was doing well at being more honest with the few people still in my life, and I wouldn't do that to Charlie anyway. "I know. I'm sorry. I can't come back yet. I don't know when I'll be ready."

I heard Charlie exhale over the receiver. When he spoke again he sounded calculated, strong. "Let's not do this. I couldn't keep you here, and I can't make you come back. Here's the new deal. You come home before you do something stupid. Okay? No time limits. I get that being away has been good for you, so let's not put an expiration date on it. But the moment you start thinking of crossing a border or running off to Vegas with some guy you just met… instead, you come home."

"I can do that."

Charlie sighed. "You really should call your mother more often, you know. She's starting to nag."

I groaned, but had no counter. I'd spoken with Renee a few times, but not nearly as much as I did with Charlie. There wasn't much to say to her, she'd had far less concerns, and in her own way she understood what I was hoping to accomplish far better than Charlie. "Okay, I'll call her. I love you." The sentiment was inadequate, but it would have to do. We never said it enough.

"You, too, Bells."

The line disconnected, leaving me hollow and lost. I'd never realized how much I'd taken Charlie for granted.

I threw myself into any and every activity I could think of, which mainly consisted of helping Peter. The truth was that I kind of liked doing some of the legwork. He was right, it was tedious, but I was _good_ at it. The method of searching out a face, watching carefully for just the right detail, tracking—it came naturally. Hunting, I'd called it when I talked to Peter. The ease of the task disturbed and enthralled me all at once.

I still had misgivings, but after demanding four separate explanations I saw that Peter had no delusions about who or what he was. He didn't try to pretend this work we did was anything noble, and he didn't let it cross into any other aspect of his life. Peter had no qualms about his diet, and he didn't use his job to justify it. I believed him when he told me he wouldn't ask me to do something he knew I'd be against, that the people he found went to whoever asked for him. In the cases I worked on that was always the police, so it was easy to push aside any objections.

At the least it was something to do; some way I could be helpful instead of sitting idle every day. The books were starting to lose the appeal they'd once held for me. They gathered dust in my bedroom, a perpetual reminder that their primary use for the past year had been to disguise the prison I locked myself in. I had little desire left to sit inside and read. I'd done nothing but else for weeks on end, and now that there was this small thing to fill my time, I hungered for more.

Calls to Charlie became more frequent, desperate trips to town increased. Twice I found myself speeding down the highway in Peter's car without a clue where I was going. I was free now, but I'd never felt more trapped. The nightmares were getting worse. Some were so bad that Peter had to have mercy and come wake me. Those nights were always the worst, and always ended with me sitting on the couch watching hours of video surveillance.

I was learning the streets spanning the area. I subscribed to the local paper. Peter asked why, but I never told him it was because I was looking for roller-coasters. This place was starting to feel like home, and with that the bitterness seeping in my veins started to evaporate. My departing anger and depression left a void in their wake; the hollows that remained were intense and overbearing with nothing to fill them.

I'd nearly taken up Peter's suggestion of finding a job a dozen times, but the reality was that I couldn't. My life was dictated by a ticking clock, and there was no way to know how much time was left. I wouldn't make commitments when I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to keep them for. Once the curtains started falling I couldn't make them stop. Peter may not have been my warden, but in many ways I was still caged. There was no sense in making friends, in creating ties to the people here, because it wouldn't be long before I'd have to vanish without a trace. It was bad enough to know I'd have to leave my family and friends in Forks; I couldn't begin to think of the possibility of creating an entire new set of bonds that would be ripped to shreds, too.

It was another day of aimlessly wandering around town, and trying to come to grips with the fact that the only soul in any direction I had a chance of keeping in my life for the foreseeable future was Peter. It was starting to take far too much effort to keep from unloading all my pent up feelings on him. He probably wouldn't appreciate it if I told him that sometimes I thought the two of us _had_ to be friends, because I just didn't have any one else to talk to.

I wandered into a store, caught halfway between shopping for something I wasn't sure of and contemplating why I felt so sure I needed something from this place in particular. Mostly though, I thought about the life I'd found myself living.

I had a lot of good things going for me here, and I needed to remember that. Charlie and I were getting along for what was probably the first time in my life. I was feeling better about myself, was getting to understand more of the world. Peter and I were settling into a routine. If the price I paid for all that was a little loneliness, well, maybe that was a good thing, too. It was, after all, exactly what I wanted; to learn how to be on my own.

Still, I thought that maybe Peter and I should try to be a little nicer to each other. After all, we were all we had right now. Of course, Peter wasn't bothered by solitude in the least, so I could only hope that he'd find some other motivation. Though, to be fair, he'd started to cool.

Sometimes we would talk. More accurately, sometimes _I_ would talk, and Peter would listen. Occasionally he would add something to the conversation, but not often, and no more than he had in the park the day I told him about Victoria. I didn't mind his silence, and in this trait I found yet another similarity to Jasper. Peter didn't judge me for what made me feel like a terrible person, only for what he felt made me weak.

Some days it was like he _had_ to point out each and every single thing about me that he found sub-par. Others, he started meaningless conversations about the most ridiculously complex things; conversations I couldn't hope to follow. He was brash and unforgiving, but steady in the way that he was a constant. I never had to worry about what Peter thought of me, because he had no problem speaking his mind. Though I didn't want to admit it, I liked him for that. It was so freeing, never having to walk on eggshells.

I found myself standing in the middle of the crafts aisle. Staring at all the vibrant colors I was overcome by a fresh determination I'd almost forgotten existed. If I wasn't going to work, then I'd do this. I'd pick up a hobby and then maybe another. So that at least I'd be doing something. Besides, I'd heard somewhere that art was therapeutic, and it was no secret I could use all the help I could get in that department.

I spent way too much money, but couldn't make myself feel bad for it. Anything that instilled the desire to drive back to Peter's house as fast I could had to be worth any price.

I was relieved when Peter wasn't home to witness the absurd amounts of art supplies I had to lug into the house. There was no doubt he'd have something to say about it, and since I couldn't predict his reaction, I'd rather avoid it all together. If he was going to mock me he'd have plenty of time for it later.

I took over the second bedroom on the main floor; it wasn't like Peter actually needed all of these rooms anyway. The only thing he ever used the bedrooms for was his clothes, and I was pretty sure he kept his things upstairs.

Dumping the contents of the bags all over the desk against the wall was strangely satisfying, and I flipped through the blank pages of the tablet I'd bought while taking inventory.

I didn't know where to start, or what I was doing. My eyes dropped to the scattered pencils and paints, and I realized that half the shades I'd purchased were some form of green or brown. I ripped the case of pencils open, and I drew Forks. Charlie's house, the forest and mountains; a scene of a van careening around the corner of a parking lot, and the way the forest floor had looked when I laid on it for hours. The pictures were small, sloppy, but they took with them some deep-rooted anxiety I hadn't ever acknowledged before.

Eventually I calmed enough to reign myself in, and I found myself drawing endless leaves and twigs, the memory of how they'd felt under the weight of my cheek all too fresh. It wasn't enough to expel that moment, so once I finished putting it to paper; I ripped open another set of tools and put the day that saw my heart ripped from my chest to canvas.

I never expected that I'd like to paint. It was yet another hidden quality I had in common with Renee, and it made me miss her more than I ever had before. Charlie was right; I really should call my mother more often.

A knock sounded from the door before it swung open, revealing Peter.

"Hey there." I didn't really know what else to say to my vampire, semi-housemate who spent his free time working as a bounty-hunter and had somehow sucked me into the trade while simultaneously making me question just about every single event and reaction that had caused me to wind up in Kansas. Trying to define Peter's role in my life gave me a headache.

Peter arched an eyebrow and made a show of scanning the room. "What is this? You've been in here for hours."

A month ago I would have pegged his expression as merely amused. Now I knew there was some curiosity in there as well. Closer inspection showed his eyes were darkening again. Soon he'd be prowling through the streets, hunting down some unsuspecting victim. I wondered how he chose, what his process was; if somewhere in the stack of manila folders he kept in his desk there was a section for people he never showed me and who never made it back to whoever gave him their pictures in the first place. I didn't think Peter tried to inject any morality into his selection process, but I did know that he had one. I was starting to get a little obsessed with figuring it out.

"I've decided that I should be an artist."

Peter laughed. The rumbling was deep, the grin on his face contagious. It really was kind of funny. "You're going to paint?"

"Yes. Then maybe something else; photography? I could take pictures." I wished I hadn't left my camera behind in Forks.

Peter shook his head. "As long as you don't try to build a kiln in the back yard."

"Don't be silly." I scoffed. "I'd just make you build it."

"As if I would," Peter countered, but he had a challenging smile on his face. I wondered if I could have talked him into it if I tried. Probably not.

Peter surveyed the room, walking around and looking over all the papers spread over the desk before his finger reached out to brush along the side of the canvas still propped on the easel against the wall. It was the view of the forest after I'd given up chasing after Edward. I didn't like him looking at that one; he would see it for exactly what it was. "This one is actually really good."

"Are you trying to tell me the rest of them are terrible?" I asked, trying to get him to focus on something other than the splatters of brown and black painted across that canvas along with the vast majority of what hurt inside me. It didn't work.

"No," Peter answered, distracted. "They're all good, but this one…" he narrowed his eyes and ran his hand up from the side to rest on the top. "I don't know what it is about it."

"Do you know how to play blackjack?" I asked in one last desperate bid to make him focus on _anything_ else. The absurd and random question finally snapped his attention back to me. He stepped away from the easel, and I immediately decided I'd hide it in the back of my closet so he could never look at it again; or maybe drown it in the pond so I wouldn't have to either.

Peter arched an eyebrow and nodded his head; of course he knew how.

"Will you teach me sometime?"

"You want me to teach you to play blackjack?" Peter asked. He managed to be visibly confused by my request. I'd never managed to make a vampire show such clear and unintentional emotion before, and here I'd just managed it twice in the last ten minutes.

"I do."

Peter tilted his head. "Why?"

"Because I made a promise." He didn't need to know any more than that.

"You promised to take up gambling?"

I felt the beginnings of a smile cross my face. "In a way."

"I'm almost afraid to ask what other sorts of crazy things you've agreed to."

I wiped my hands on the towel draped over the back of the desk chair, and felt a real smile cross my face for the first time in what felt like forever. "Really? Because I think you're going to get a kick out of this next one."

I'd searched for nearly a week before stumbling on the announcement of a fair at the high school. It wasn't quite what I had in mind, but it would do. The sky was starting to darken, and I wasn't going to get another chance like this. Peter in public was pretty amusing on a normal day. Peter in a crowd of screaming children and rigged carnival games was too good a chance to pass up.

He followed me through the house with a skeptical look on his face. When I grabbed the keys from the table, he'd had enough.

"Where are we going?" Peter asked. He was curious enough to follow me outside, though.

"You'll see." I almost couldn't believe he got into the car without protest or demanding a fuller explanation. I was also pretty shocked that he was letting me drive, but he really didn't have much of a choice.

He didn't realize where we were going until I flipped the turn signal and pulled into the parking lot of the high school. There were already a ton of people milling around.

"You must be joking." Peter crossed his arms and scowled.

"Oh, come on. Maybe it'll be fun." I cut the engine and stepped out of the car. When I heard his door open I headed toward the entrance.

We wandered through the fairground, no immediate destination in mind. I bought cotton candy and drank in the scenery in while I tried to work up my resolve to tackle the scariest ride I could find.

There were kids all over the place, running wild, screaming and laughing as they raced between booths and rides. Peter seemed downright appalled to be caught in such a place, but what I was more focused on were the parents wandering after their children with loving smiles plastered across their faces. I wondered if there was something fundamentally wrong with me; something damaged in the way that I didn't feel the need for it to ever be me. Everyone else seemed to think so. Some days I was sure that there was something inside me that was broken—defective; other times I considered that maybe I really never did have a place in the human world. I never could decide which theory was more depressing.

As if he sensed my mood shift, Peter knocked his shoulder into mine to get my attention and wrinkled his nose in distaste for the atmosphere. It was kind of hilarious, and it worked to pull me from my funk in an instant. "What are we doing here?"

"We're going to ride a roller-coaster," I said, trying my best to inject as much confidence as I could into my words. He already thought I was crazy. I'd given up on trying to convince him otherwise.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but there _isn't_ a roller-coaster here. This isn't Six Flags, it's Andover High's incredibly tacky carnival of gaudiness."

"It's a fair," I corrected, gloating a little for knowing there was a difference. "And we'll just have to make do with what we've got." I nodded toward a particularly threatening assembly of spinning, twisting metal to our right, hoping I sounded less terrified of it than I was.

Peter looked from me to the massive blob of pink cotton candy in my hand, and then to the ride I'd pointed out. "Fine, but I'm not sitting next to you."

"Fine," I agreed. I would have been insulted if his insinuation didn't have at least some basis. Just looking at that thing was starting to make me feel ill.

I made it through ten seconds on the ride, and after that it was a battle of will to keep from proving Peter right about what a terrible idea cotton candy before a spinning death-trap was. Peter was two rows in front of me, and I focused all the attention I was able on glaring at him. I was going to kill Emmett for putting this idea in my head. The moment the restraints loosened I bolted from the platform.

"You were right, this is fun," Peter snickered. He, of course, was completely unfazed. "Uh-oh, you don't look so good."

My knees knocked together as I tried with all my might to stand straight, but it was only twenty seconds later that the bubbling in my stomach turned into full on revolt, and I lurched toward the nearest trash bin. Peter laughed the entire time he held my hair back.

It took far longer that I liked before I was able to say, "Shut up. We can't all have your sense of equilibrium."

"We can't all have your stunning sense of food and entertainment, either," Peter shot back as he twisted my hair over my shoulder and wandered off, only to reappear a couple minutes later with a bottle of water.

"Thanks."

"You have an audience."

My head shot up to see Peter nod toward Sheila and her husband gaping at us, two kids running circles around their legs.

Peter chuckled and made a motion that was clearly meant to indicate I'd been drinking. Without thinking I backhanded him in the stomach; that was a mistake. I wasn't trying to hurt him, but it was still like smacking my hand against a brick wall. I clenched my teeth and glared at him.

"You should learn to contain these violent outbursts of yours," Peter said, a little too loud. His expression turned so earnestly concerned that I almost laughed at him before I remembered that he was, without a doubt, trying to embarrass me. "You're hurting the people who care about you."

"Stop twelve-stepping me in front of that whacko," I hissed.

"But I want to see if I can get her to stage an intervention for you." To Peter, this was a completely reasonable explanation.

"You know, she told me she lost her babysitter. Maybe I should see if we can take her kids one night? Might be good for you."

"You wouldn't," Peter said, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out if I was angry enough to do exactly that.

I smiled. "Or we could set up a daycare. All the kids could call you Uncle Pete."

Peter frowned. "What am I going to have to give you for a cease-fire?" Apparently he _really_ didn't like children. I didn't like them much either, but I wasn't going to let him know that.

I could have asked any number of extravagant or embarrassing things of him. Instead, I stood on the tips of my toes and whispered in his ear, "You owe me a darkroom for this one."

His lip curved, and when he nodded he turned his head toward mind enough for me to become uncomfortable with the sudden proximity. "Deal."

Peter slipped an arm around my waist and tugged me next to him to keep walking. I couldn't quite keep the horror from my expression. He laughed and leaned to whisper in my ear, much like I'd just done to him. "Play along, _dear_. We don't want everyone to think we hate each other. Besides, as much as I'd like to see you try to walk straight after all that, I doubt you'd appreciate face-planting into the dirt."

"I don't hate you," I grumbled. "But I am very irritated with you right now."

"This is why they all assumed we were married." Peter chuckled. "The woman at the end of the block, the one who's always hanging around that one," he nodded his head toward Sheila, "she's convinced herself we had some grand affair and ran off together."

"We should have just told everyone we're cousins or something." The notion was ridiculous, but while I started laughing, Peter took on a very convincing impression of feeling ill. It was gone as quick as it came.

Peter rolled his eyes and muttered, "Yeah, because that would better."

"What else do they say about us?" I wondered.

Peter laughed and steered me back toward the parking lot, "Not much we didn't bring on ourselves."

* * *

The morning of my birthday went by without incident—no over-the-top gifts or vampires trying to kill me. For the first time in nearly three years I didn't define my age in relation to Edward's. It was simple; I was nineteen. It felt like something was missing.

It wasn't until the sun fell that things started to get interesting. Peter dragged me from the backyard to sit at the kitchen table, a deck of cards in his hand.

"Now, the thing about blackjack," Peter said, shuffling the cards, "is that it's not only about what your cards are. The dealer's cards are just as important. It's also kind of stupid to play with just the two of us, but since we've managed to alienate every single person within ten miles who might have agreed to join us, we're kind of stuck." Peter grinned. I got the feeling he was a pleased with himself for being so thorough.

"I want to get to twenty-one, right?"

"Correct," Peter said. He dealt the cards and pointed at my hand. "There's no way to skew the odds in your favor unless you count the cards, which people get pretty pissy over. All you can focus on is to make the correct decisions regarding when to hit or stand. As the dealer I have to hit if I have sixteen or lower, and stand at seventeen or above."

That was just the beginning. Peter went on for nearly an hour explaining all the rules and conditions of the game. I had no idea why Emmett wanted me to learn how to play this, or why Peter was so into his increasingly long monologue over the intricacies of the Double Down.

"You seem a little too excited about this," I noted.

"That's because I never get to play. I'm flagged in all the good casinos." Peter frowned.

"Oh, you poor thing," I cooed sarcastically. "You've got such big problems."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Hit or stand?"

I guessed. "Hit."

"Wrong," Peter said, dealing me a jack. "I have a two showing. You should stand and hope I bust. Like you just did."

"Stop dealing from the bottom!" I snapped. Peter just grinned and kept going. "Cheater."

"I thought we'd already established that."

"So," I said, nervous for the topic I was going to breach. "What changed?"

"How do you mean?" Peter asked, obviously trying to figure it out before I told him.

I gave him a minute before explaining. "You and I… we didn't really get on that well in the beginning, right? I know I didn't imagine all that hostility. What changed? What's different now?"

"I told you already; I'm not running on assumptions anymore." Peter shrugged, but I could tell there was more to it.

"And just what were these assumptions?"

He stared me down for nearly a minute before answering, "I think, that in the beginning, I was a little unfair to you."

"You still haven't told me why."

"Because I thought I knew you through past experience. I thought you were weak. Now I see that it's not so simple. You're strong in the way that you know you're not. It's something I never thought to value, before."

Coming from Peter, that was downright sweet.

"So, this is a truce, then?"

"Guess so," Peter said, shuffling the cards. I was sure he was stacking the deck.

I shook my head and let him keep dealing from the bottom, counting the cards, and berating me for my terrible blackjack strategy, or lack thereof, as the case turned out to be. He finally called it a night once it became too difficult for me to keep my eyes open, and I left him in the kitchen for the relative peace of my bedroom.

Everything was just as I left it, but something struck me as odd, which is when I saw it: a small, unwrapped box sitting on my dresser. I opened it to find fancy looking camera, and tipped it from the box into my hand to see a note taped to the bottom. _Since you extorted a darkroom out of me anyway__._

It was just the type of thing Charlie would have done, a small, understated gift given privately without any need for a show. And then I knew what was missing. Charlie. We never did much, but we always did something, and the occasion was a painful reminder that while things between us were going well, there was still half a country between us. I wondered if when I left he thought I would have come home by now. Either way, I probably wouldn't be in Forks—if Charlie had his way I'd be at school—but it was hard to keep hold of that perspective.

All I could focus on was what we might be doing for my birthday this year, and then I realized that I had to think of a way to tell Charlie that I was going to miss Thanksgiving. That I probably wouldn't be home for Christmas. I couldn't face the reality that going home to him meant leaving him again, for good.

I went to bed tense, knowing that it wouldn't end well. Stress brought the worst of the nightmares.

I closed my eyes, and when exhaustion pulled me under the trees circled and closed in on me. My breath came in visible pants, far too loud. I was always too loud. They were out there, and they never had any trouble finding me for the traitorous beating of my heart. Even I could hear it, pounding away in my ears. The cloaked figure sprang from behind a tree with an unnatural grace, and the next thing I saw was the white flash of teeth.

In my dreams, Jane's gift worked very well on me. She loved it when I screamed. I never could master the willpower to endure silently.

The forest floor vibrated and a deep voice commanded, "Wake up, Bella."

My eyes flew open and to Peter's without another thought. I hated it when he came to wake me from a nightmare, but not as much as I was grateful that he ended the particularly nasty ones.

"Sorry," I muttered, never taking my eyes off him.

"It's okay," he said. He headed toward the door. "It's fine."

I still hated that word, but it sounded like less of a lie coming from Peter.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Beta'd by sweeneyanne and preread by aerobee82 & AlexisDanaan.**

**Don't own Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - The Shallows**

My favorite thing about Kansas was that I could feel the seasons changing. In Phoenix it was perpetually summer; in Forks the temperature fluctuated, but the atmosphere was wet and foggy no matter what time of year it was. The leaves fell from the trees, just like they had in Washington, but it felt different. I considered many times over the passing weeks that maybe it only seemed that way because I was different; Peter said I was looking for meaning in dark corners again.

The truce made the night of my birthday wasn't without its benefits. It was nice to not have to come up with ways to exact revenge on Peter for little lies spread—not that any of mine were very creative—and this was another shift that was tangible in the air. Peter and I were finally on the same side. Or, at the least, on the same page.

I was quick to adjust. Before long I could look back on our meeting and all that followed with humor rather than a stressful disdain. In some ways I thought I handled it better than Peter. He maintained his edge, but it was clear he was making an effort, and whenever he said something particularly cutting I had to remind myself that he had rarely ever meant to actually wound me. Sometimes Peter did things just to get a reaction, and others he said things in the wrong way, whether to ensure I listened or because that was just how he was, I wasn't sure. Either way, it was nothing to get overly upset about. Not anymore.

I was starting to understand how Peter and Jasper had grown to be such good friends, and accept that in a way that was less judgmental than thinking that out of everyone on the planet Jasper was probably the only person capable of maintaining any sort of relationship with someone like Peter. Peter was the sort of person I wanted on my side.

Within two weeks I'd decided that painting was a terrible way to pass my time and that I wasn't ever going to do it again. It was a complete exaggeration, of course. I still loved it just as much as I had the first time I'd given it a try, but scraping all those pieces of my battered soul onto canvas was something I couldn't do for long. It was like reliving all those horrible moments—the mirrors, the woods—and then hanging them out for everyone to see. Those were the canvases that invariably caught Peter's eye, and subsequently wound up hidden in the back of my closet.

The camera was more comfortable—safer—photos could only capture the now, and I was sick of looking toward the past. I spent most of October snapping pictures, relishing the click of the shutter and learning the finicky, precise method of developing the images. I learned to take comfort in Peter hidden out in the trees somewhere, and I felt less alone than I had in an embarrassingly long time.

It was impossibly difficult to reconcile how much more at ease I was in this place with the sadness that still lingered from leaving Forks.

Peter and I settled into a routine of sorts. I convinced him to get a television and then subjected him to the most sappy, romantic movies I could find. He, in turn, insisted on teaching me to play every card game he could think of and never let me win. True to the shaky understanding we'd come to, Peter and I had stopped spreading lies about each other, and once the dust settled I found that Sheila and her friends really weren't all that bad, though any interaction with them was short and superficial. Once upon a time I might have been bothered by being a pariah. I wasn't ever going to make friends here—I'd accepted that the moment I set foot in this town—but it was nice to have acquaintances, someone to say hello to at the park or stop and chat with at the grocery store. It made life feel a little bit more real.

I continually broadened my perimeter, seeking to accomplish all Emmett and Rosalie had said I should do during my time away, and then some. It almost felt like I was in a frenzy, trying to accomplish all I possibly could before my time was up.

Time may have brought me many benefits, but there was one significant drawback that I had never considered. I was desensitized to Peter's method of distraction—whether it was intentional or not—and as it became easier to ignore him the loneliness began to creep back in. I hadn't realized it when Peter and I agreed to be more civil, but in some ways those little pranks and annoyances we set up for each other kept me afloat. Without Peter to fight against there was just one less thing in between me and the reality of my situation.

Thinking of Edward became easier, when I let myself. I didn't miss him any less than I did when I left, but the tenor was starting to change. It was different than the last time we were separated. Then I had missed him like he'd left with all the good parts of me, now it was more of a lingering ache. Instead of something missing, the memory of Edward was something I carried with me, and most of the time when things got hard I could think back on what we'd had with a calm fondness.

On days where it started to become too much I retreated to the park; times I was completely overwhelmed found me curled up in my bed, staring out the window, just trying to figure out what the hell I was doing. And then there was the day I decided that enough was enough. Somewhere along the line I'd come to depend on Peter to keep my head above water, and now I was going to have to find a way to do it myself. Hadn't that been the point of all this in the first place?

I would learn to make my own distractions.

I'd lost count of the number of times I came stumbling through the front door, too many bags hanging from my arms and threatening to pull my shoulders out of their sockets, but I couldn't be bothered to care. This was going to be fun. I was going to make it fun if it killed me.

These ideas always worked out so much better in my head.

Peter, as usual, watched with crossed arms and a detached irritation bordering on amusement as I struggled to get everything onto the table. I realized that this probably was going to be one of those times where he was going to just be more annoyed once he realized what I was doing, so it was with great relish that I tore into the first bag and started sorting out decorations and props.

Peter took one look at the bags of fake cobwebs in my hand, glanced at the plastic skeleton on the table, and then turned to me. "No."

It wasn't the kind of no that really meant no, it was an 'are you kidding me?' Apparently I'd gotten pretty good at reading Peter, too. "Yes."

"Absolutely not."

"It's not up for discussion." Halloween had suddenly become ten times more appealing now that I knew Peter wanted nothing to do with it.

"Why?" he asked, his eyes traveling over the decorations littered all over the living room once more. "What could possibly be the point of this?"

"It's fun." I tried to say in the same way he did whenever he had to explain something to me he thought should be obvious; like I was talking to a five year old. "We'll get to see all the kids dressed up, and when their parents tell them to take one piece of candy, we'll sneak them more."

Peter was not convinced. I didn't really care. This may have been Peter's house, but I hadn't gotten to do anything fun for Halloween in ages—not since I lived with Renee—and I was going to decorate and give those kids enough candy to make their parents furious whether he liked it or not.

"Oh, don't act like you'll have to do anything," I said. "Just brood in the corner like you always do, it'll be over before you know it."

"Like you're one to talk about brooding." Peter grabbed the skeleton and headed out the front door. I hoped he was hanging it up instead of throwing it away. I followed him just to make sure it wasn't the latter. I found him on the front porch glaring up at the light he'd hung the skeleton from. "There isn't even a word for how stupid this looks."

"You say that now, but just wait until you see what else I got."

Needless to say, Peter wasn't impressed by the decorations. He rolled his eyes the whole time, but he helped a little bit, too.

I figured that was that. I went to bed knowing that if Peter didn't want to get involved, there wasn't anything I could do to change his mind. At least, that's what I thought until I woke up the next morning to find him examining what I could only hope was a jug full of stage blood.

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is."

"Okay," Peter said, practically exploding with sarcasm. "It's not what it looks like."

"Really?" I asked. It was far too early deal with something like this. "You don't have any control over your compulsion to have the last word and outdo everyone, do you?"

"You said it would be fun." I did not like the smile on his face one bit. He was up to something, and I was sure once I'd had five minutes to wake up and have breakfast I'd figure out what it was.

"I thought you didn't like kids?"

Peter smirked. "I don't."

"So basically, you're just going to scare the crap out of them to amuse yourself?" It actually sounded kind of fun, but I was going to keep that to myself for the moment.

"There are worse things I could be doing."

Now that my brain had kicked into gear I was starting to wonder what had caused Peter to get so into something he'd been opposed to just yesterday. I supposed it could have been any number of things, but the notion that maybe he just wanted to experience something he'd never had reason to before crawled through my head, and once I thought of it that way I found that I didn't have it in me to deny him his fun. I frowned; there had to be some way to get him to dial it back a bit. "This is too much. Even for you."

Peter shrugged and unscrewed the top of a spray bottle before pouring a measure of the red liquid inside.

"I don't even want to know."

I headed outside to finish getting ready for the trick or treaters, knowing that whatever I did today, he would probably either add to or undo as soon as the sun fell. This was the downside to shorter days—Peter had more time out in the open. I shuddered to think of what he could accomplish in one night if he put his mind to it. With my luck I'd wake up tomorrow morning to find he'd converted our entire lot into some sort of demented haunted house.

Of course, Peter was one step ahead of me. I opened the front door to find that he had turned the lawn into a graveyard, complete with tombstones and an entirely too realistic mannequin laying on the slab in front of a guillotine.

"Nice, right?" Peter asked, coming to stand next to me, just inside the doorway.

I sighed. "You filled that thing with blood, didn't you?"

"Isn't the point of this to scare people?" Peter asked. "I'm pretty sure blood gushing out of a severed head is considered to be scary."

"Fine," I agreed, turning to go back into the house. I may have slammed the front door with a little more force than necessary. I absolutely did not want to know where he found a guillotine in the middle of the night. This was too over the top, but I didn't have it in me to wage an argument that I wasn't going to win. The best I could hope for was some sort of compromise. "But you can't use it around the young kids."

"Define 'young,'" Peter demanded. I rolled my eyes.

"None under ten. Twelve. Really, can't we just not use it at all? At least take the _body_ off it. Splatter the blood on the blade or something. We can't have beheadings on the front lawn!"

"Isn't this one of those things they're going to have learn about eventually?" Peter asked.

"I hope not!" He was insane.

"If I'm letting you do the whole stupid Halloween thing, then I at least get to have some fun with it." Peter shot me a menacing grin full of teeth. "Oh, calm down. I'll behave."

"Define 'behave,'" I countered.

Peter stared at me for a moment before taking a few steps closer and lowering his voice. "I thought the point of this was for you to have the chance to go all out and make the most of this ridiculous holiday. Why aren't you letting yourself enjoy it? Or is it only fun if you have complete control over it?"

One of these days I was going to win a staring match with Peter if it killed me. This was not that day. I shrugged on my jacket and grabbed Peter's keys from the table. "I will not be helping you clean this up."

Peter had a quiet day at home, or at least that's what I chose to believe. I took a walk through the park, snapping pictures of the leaves and feeling a little weird because I was actually feeling alright. Maybe enough time had passed that all the thoughts swirling around my head had settled down. I supposed it didn't really matter why. I could agonize over every little thing until it drove me crazy, but that wouldn't change anything.

There wasn't anything I could do but take charge of the inevitable. Back in Fork's I'd come to the decision that becoming a vampire was simply part of my future, something that was out of my hands. Now that I'd gotten a chance to see what it meant to actually have some control over my life, it was difficult to acknowledge that in this regard, I still had none.

I would have liked to continue denying it, to pretend that I could put off going home for as long as I pleased and that stubborn refusal of mine would prevent the future from crashing down on me, but I was starting to realize that it was just like the seasons. They changed, whether it wasn't noticeable, like in Phoenix, or always coated in the same fog and rain, like in Forks.

I had to start thinking about what came next. I didn't know anything other than the basics, and it was time for that to change. I might have had zero control over where my path would end but that didn't mean I couldn't dictate the journey. I should be informed, and I grudgingly admitted that I'd managed to acquire a roommate who was ideal to get these answers from. Peter wouldn't lie to spare my feelings, and he wouldn't try to wrap anything up in a pretty package to make it easier to swallow. He'd probably try to make it sound worse, actually, and that was exactly what I needed.

It had been months, and it was time for me to stop running in place and start trying to get somewhere.

Peter would probably never admit it, but he was having fun.

We had a system. Peter sat on the porch all night, doing an admittedly excellent job of looking terrifying. Every now and then he'd let the blade of the guillotine fall and send kids scampering off to their parents. I grinned with every irritated look accompanying too many pieces of candy dropped in children's baskets, and with every neighbor's horrified glance Peter pointed at me like the scene he'd constructed on our lawn was all my idea.

I'd thought that this would be a great chance to have one last real Halloween. As it turned out, I'd never experienced one to begin with. This was nothing like it was with Renee. I'd never seen so many children in my life; they came in endless swarms. I had a grin breaking my face in two all night.

The experience was obviously something new for Peter, too, and that was the kind of thing that I never thought about, but should know better by now. After so much time spent with the Cullens, I couldn't believe that it took Peter on Halloween to put this one concept into perspective. How long it would be before I didn't know how to celebrate holidays anymore, either. A decade? Two? It was yet another countdown. These were the kinds of things I didn't want to have to consider. I sat with my back to the arm of the sofa with my feet tucked under me and rested my head against the cushions, trying to hold on to the last bits of exhilaration and happiness still swirling.

The problem with using distractions as a band-aid was that once they were over, there wasn't anything left to keep me from the things I'd been trying to avoid in the first place. The fun parts were over, and now I was right back where I'd started. At least I'd gotten some laughs.

Peter set the bowl of candy in my lap and sat across from me. "We both know you bought too much on purpose."

I shrugged and picked a piece of chocolate out of the bowl before moving it to the floor. "Did you manage to have anything resembling a good time?"

"It was alright," Peter said. "Would have been better if you'd let me behead the mannequin, though."

"With our luck we'd have gotten the cops called on us."

Peter chuckled. "Now _that_ would have been amusing."

"I can't believe we had any kids after you terrified that first round." I tried to stop myself from laughing, but couldn't. I wouldn't ever admit it, but Peter had been right. Scaring the crap out of them was one of the funniest things I'd ever seen in my life.

"Fine," Peter said. "I went a little overboard. It's not like I know how to do this kind of shit. This isn't going to become a regular thing, just so we're clear. I won't be helping you with Thanksgiving dinner next month."

"Only because there's no way to warp Thanksgiving into something that you'll find entertaining."

Peter shrugged. He knew it was true.

I took a couple of minutes to shore up my courage. This was a good time to start asking Peter questions; he was in a decent mood, he was relaxed, and he hadn't gotten nearly enough chances to make fun of me today. It was the trifecta—the perfect opportunity to get information out of him. I counted to sixty in my head, took a deep breath, and asked, "Can I talk to you about something?"

Peter narrowed his eyes, instantly suspicious. "Depends on what it is."

I shrugged. Peter crossed his arms and waited for me to explain. "It's just that I'm starting to realize it's getting to be time for me to start asking questions."

Peter took on an expression that meant he was ready to try and figure out all the answers before I'd even asked a single question. "About what your life is going to be after?"

"Yeah."

Peter nodded. "It's going to be hard. It's going to be hell for a long time. It's also going to be worth it in the end."

I pushed aside the way his blunt explanation jarred me. "How could you know something like that?"

"Because you'll know that no matter what the circumstances are, you did it for your father. You'll know he's safe. You're the kind of person that's enough for." Peter looked me in the eye and asked, "That is the question we were going to end up at, right?"

"Probably." I was still unsettled by how easily Peter could trace the likely path of any conversation and cut it short. In some cases, like this one, I needed the push and pull of discussion to dig out the questions I needed answers to, and I resented his attempt to short-cut me. "I guess I was also wondering about some other aspects, too."

"Like what?"

I sighed and folded my legs so I could rest my elbows on them and lean forward. I wanted to watch him carefully when he answered. Peter was excellent at misdirection, but as far as I knew he wasn't very good at out and out lying. "You used to work with newborns, right? Back when you met Jasper?"

It was obvious right from the start that Peter didn't like where this was going. "Yes."

"What were they like?"

"You know what they were like," Peter said. "Where do you think Jasper got half of those scars of his? He's far too good a fighter for them all to be battle wounds."

"How come yours aren't as bad?" I had an immense curiosity about Peter's scars—whether they really weren't as bad as Jasper's, or if he was just making it seem so. I supposed I might not ever know. I'd never noticed Jasper's before he pointed them out to me, and Peter never gave me the opportunity to look.

"Because Jasper fights with his teeth. I don't think he's ever come out of an altercation without a new bite-mark added to the collection. I tend to come at my problems from the side."

"Have you ever changed someone?"

"Not on purpose."

"Why not?" I wondered, skipping right over the implication of his answer. I had a feeling I knew what it meant.

Peter's face stilled into the mask I'd learned to identify as meaning I'd offended him. "Not my job."

"Who changed you? Was it Jasper?"

"Where is this coming from?" Peter asked, narrowing his eyes.

I shrugged. I wasn't going to admit that I'd been wondering about a lot of things when it came to him for quite some time now.

Peter was suspicious for sure, but he answered all the same. "No, not Jasper. It was just another soldier. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he'd already eaten his fill."

I stayed quiet for a moment before asking, "Does it make a difference who does it?"

"Oh," Peter said. "I have to tell you, you're getting better at disguising your intentions with all these questions if that's where this was going."

"I was just curious." It went unsaid why I would wonder such a thing, but then again, Peter surely knew exactly what my concern was; would it make any difference if it was Edward.

"I can't see how it would. There's no tie created through the venom, no passing of traits. It's all the same poison."

I supposed that was all the explanation I needed. I'd known it probably wasn't the case, and I'd already been positive that it wasn't anything imperative. All I had to do was think of Alice and Jasper to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that shared venom couldn't possibly compete with love. All that was left to wonder about was if things didn't work out with Edward, where would that leave me? I didn't dare ask Peter, I already knew exactly what he would say to that; something eerily similar to the cynic screaming in the back of my head that Edward really shouldn't be a deciding factor in this at all. Love should be a bonus, not an incentive.

"Will you tell me what it's like?" I asked, unsure if I was crossing a line or not. When Peter didn't answer right away I rushed to clarify. "Jasper explained a little about newborns, when he told me what happened to him. I guess what I really want to know is if that's how I'll be, too."

"Everyone deals with obstacles differently. You can't draw comparisons between the newborns you've seen and heard about and in turn predict how you will be. It just doesn't work that way."

"That girl, from back in Forks—Bree—she was so…" I wasn't sure how to phrase it. "She was just like Jasper said newborns would be. Wild. Volatile. I took one look at her, and I knew there was nothing she wanted more than to kill me."

"You're worried that you could turn out anything like her?" Peter shook his head. "Environment is everything when it comes to these kinds of things. She was born into violence and hatred with no idea what had happened to her. To wake up like that, it is more traumatizing than you could ever imagine. It shapes you in a way you couldn't possibly comprehend, and there isn't anyone who's lived through it who wouldn't say that your lack of understanding is a _very_ good thing."

For someone who had to have every single piece of information pulled out of them on a good day, I couldn't figure out why in the world Peter was being so open when it came to this subject. I didn't think much of it when I said, "It must be bad, for you to talk so freely about it."

"I've made peace with that time in my life."

"Just not what came after," I muttered.

Peter gnashed his teeth and I knew that there wasn't a chance he was going to say anything more about it.

"Sometimes I think I should be fighting harder." I sighed and let the notion roll around in my head for a moment, hoping something would snare and make what I felt easier to translate into words. "Shouldn't I be fighting it? I always told myself it was my choice. I decided. Now, it's not."

"How do you figure that?" Peter asked. He didn't understand exactly what I was saying, but I got the feeling he knew I didn't either.

"Alice. Jasper. They say there's only one road left. That my future is tied."

Understanding dawned on Peter's face. I wished he would share whatever revelation he had, but he didn't. "I see."

"It makes me feel like my life isn't mine any more. When Jasper told me, it just made me want to run harder, to get away from that place as fast as I could, but there's nowhere to run. I can never get far enough away. What's wrong with me, that I'm not fighting for my life?"

"You make it sound like living forever is a death sentence."

"Sometimes it feels like it is."

"You don't get it, do you?" Peter asked. He looked almost sympathetic. "Alice still sees you as a vampire because you are willing. There are so many that would change you. It isn't just Edward and Alice—it's not even only Cullens. As long as you are resigned, that future for you will stay."

"I guess that makes sense." It wasn't like it was possible to change my mind now. I couldn't undo all I'd learned and witnessed since meeting Edward, and with that knowledge came a price.

"What's bringing all of this up now?" Peter asked.

"I don't know. I've just been thinking about it a lot lately. What's going to happen, what has happened, what brought me here. It's a little clearer now, in the way that I can see how foggy it used to be. That whole month was… it was terrible. So much came rushing in that I couldn't handle it, and it made me see just how little I am in the grand scheme of things. It made me see what I looked like next to Edward, and I didn't like it. I didn't feel like me, and it made me start doubting everything."

"And what about all these questions you've managed to come up with?"

I didn't really want to admit it, but there wasn't any good reason not to. "I realized that you're probably the best person to ask."

"Along those lines," Peter said, wavering for a moment before charging forward. "Are things better for you now? Has being away helped?"

"What, are you giving Jasper status updates?" I asked, only partially kidding. I had no idea why Peter would ask something like this, but it was usually easier just tell him rather than try and tear his reasoning out of him. "I feel a lot better now, but I'm also starting to see that I shouldn't have left the way I did. It was for all the wrong reasons, even if in the end it turned out to be the right thing to do."

"There's not much you can do about that now." He paused for a moment and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "I don't mind, though. I think I'm starting to like having you here."

"When did that happen?" I bit my lip and tried not to laugh at what was obviously a difficult thing for him to admit.

"I don't know. Around the time I was holding your hair back while you threw up in a trash can." I glared. Peter didn't turn his head the slightest bit, but he knew. "Don't give me that look. I can't remember laughing that hard in… I don't think I've ever laughed that hard."

"That really was one of my worst ideas." Thankfully it wasn't nearly as humiliating in retrospect.

"Are you going to go back?"

I took a few minutes to consider his question. The truth was that I probably should. Amends needed to be made, and there wasn't any difference between figuring out myself here or in Forks—but the truth was that I'd come to like living in Andover, with Peter, and that was enough to weigh the argument. Besides, going home meant another step closer to the end. "No."

"Why not?" Peter asked, not sounding all that surprised. He really could read me far too well.

"Honestly?" I asked, trying to buy time. It didn't work out very well. Peter didn't answer, and too soon I had to take a deep breath and get it out. "Because no matter how much I love Edward, now that I have some space it looks different. Too needy, too co-dependent. When he left me, I fell apart. I died. Now that I've left him—now that the decision was made by me—it doesn't feel like that again. It just aches. I miss the little things, but apparently they are all things I can live without.

"No matter the reason, leaving was a good thing. I didn't know why I felt like I had to do it before—I'm not sure I ever will—but the distance has been good for me."

"Why is that a bad thing?"

"Shouldn't I want to be with my family? With my friends?" I shook my head and dropped my gaze to the floor. "There's this clock ticking down, and I'm letting it."

"You say that as if you have any choice. Time will pass, that's all it does, and you are powerless to stop it."

I didn't think I'd ever be able to understand how Peter could say something like that, as if he found comfort in the face of what he couldn't control.

"It won't go away," Peter said quietly, and I turned my attention back to see he was doing much the same as I had only a few minutes ago. He had his gaze fixed far away from me. "The ache. It never goes away."

I wanted to prod, but Peter was terrible at talking about these sorts of things and it seemed to be in my best interest to let the conversation fade away. I stood and retrieved Peter's computer from the table and retook my seat across from him on the couch. Somehow this had become part of my nightly routine; every night Peter and I sat on the couch, either reading or working while we talked. It was my new normal. I was starting to grow fond of it.

"Which was your favorite costume?" Peter asked, and I jerked my head up in surprise to see him looking just as confused by the question as I was. "You said that was part of it, right? Kids in their costumes? So which was your favorite?"

"I liked the one dressed as Cousin Itt," I said, unsure of why Peter was asking about something he'd deemed to be pointless. "What about you?"

Peter gave me a look like I was even crazier than he was for asking.

I laughed to myself and continued with what I'd been doing. "Never mind."

Silence spanned the living room, a comfortable quiet that was only interrupted by the occasional sounds of my fingers tapping against keys or Peter flipping through one of his files. It wasn't until late in the night when my brain had finally become exhausted that I retreated down the hallway toward my room with only a muttered 'goodnight' in my wake.

"Yes," Peter said when I reached for my doorknob. I turned back to see him still sitting on the couch, but this time he looked me in the eye. "The question you've been dancing around all night, the answer is yes. I'm the one who changed Charlotte, and no, it didn't make any difference."

It was the first time I'd ever heard him say her name.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is with the beta, so it'll be up quick. :-)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Beta'd by the lovely sweeneyanne and pre-read by aerobee82 & AlexisDanaan.**

**Don't own le Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Firecrackers**

Late nights had always been common in the time I'd been living with Peter. I still had trouble sleeping, and Peter made for surprisingly good company in more situations than I'd expected. He was, however, best when quiet. There was never any need to fill silences with empty conversation, and while he more often than not set me on edge, he was capable of reining it in. Night after night he was just there, doing his own thing, and in that quiet presence of his, there was something comforting.

I never gave it much thought. The balance we'd found was simply a by-product of adjusting to each other. We'd found a middle ground; a delicate foundation to build what could actually turn out to be a friendship on. Still, while considering this curled up on the couch, there was another aspect I should have given more thought to.

I'd taken it as fact that falling asleep next to Peter should have been uncomfortable to the point of being impossible. As it turned out, it was quite easy.

A steady weight stroked my head, pulling me through the surface of a black I'd been blissfully unaware of.

It took a full minute of laying still with my eyes still closed before I could wrap my mind around it. I was… I was on the couch. A slight shift in under my face alerted me as to what—_who_—I was laying on. This could not be happening.

He must have known I was awake, but he didn't say anything. The weight left my hair and I opened my eyes and rolled onto my back to see him above me, leaning against the back of the couch, one arm resting along the top of the cushions. It was the middle of the night, the only light coming from a lamp next to his desk and his laptop balanced on the arm of the couch. He stared at the wall across the room.

I sat up and kept quiet, inching further from him while I struggled to figure out what happened and how I could get out of it.

The moment I opened my mouth, he interrupted me. "You're about to make this really awkward, aren't you?"

The truth was that yes, I probably was. I was embarrassed and confused, and there was a force inside me that demanded I react. The problem was that I had no idea how to. I was caught teetering between two extremes, ready to topple with the slightest provocation.

For once, Peter seemed reluctant to give me that push. "It's not a big deal."

Except that he was a giant liar and it was a _huge_ deal. Faced with a choice between embarrassment and anger, I decided to go with anger. "I don't want your sympathy, and I don't want _this_," I insisted, gesturing at the space between us. "I don't want to need you like I need him."

"It's not like that." There was something in his tone that clearly said there was more to it than what he was letting on; some reason he didn't want to share as to why he let me curl up next to him on the couch and fall asleep when he'd been so insistent I stand on my own.

Peter avoided looking at me, and it made me sad and angry, but mostly it made me feel defeated. Even Peter felt so bad for me that he'd given up. Now I was hopeless in his eyes, too. A thousand insecurities and prickling thoughts that had been festering ever since leaving Forks all came bubbling up at once, and I managed to both cough and burst into tears. This was mortifying.

Peter turned his head toward mine, and something softened in his eyes, but it was gone in a flash. He let me cry for a few minutes, then looped his fingers around my forearm and gave a short tug, but I held firm. He didn't let go, but didn't press it.

I could feel it, the precise moment I snapped.

"I can't need you like this," I whispered, wiping the tears from under my eyes as I struggled to get myself under control. There were dozens of things I depended on Peter for, but I couldn't let this be one of them. I couldn't let him replace Edward in any way; otherwise this whole exercise was a failure. I knew all of this, and yet my protest was weak because I already knew it was one I didn't have the strength to stand behind. "I just can't."

"You can trust me, you know," Peter said. "I won't be your crutch and you know it. It doesn't have to all be on you."

Again I remembered that fleeting sense of understanding that had come when I'd realized what Peter meant when he said there was a difference between asking for help and begging for rescue. What I hadn't considered then was that maybe the difference wasn't in the actions or circumstance; maybe I was what made those two things opposites.

"I depend on you too much already," I admitted. "It's upsetting because I have this illusion that I'm in control and I know I'm not. You follow me, you protect me. You keep me from wallowing too much and I shouldn't need you for that—and when I don't get that from you I can't do it for myself."

"You think I follow you?" Peter asked. He chuckled and shook his head. I didn't understand what was so funny. I didn't understand much of anything today, actually.

"You don't?"

"Of course not. What? You think I have nothing better to do than trail you around town all day?"

"I thought you were keeping an eye on me?" I already knew this was going to end with me feeling like an idiot.

"Yeah, but I don't have to follow you to do that. Your phone has GPS. Every few hours I check to see where you are. I only go after you when you get too far away." Peter gave me a look I wasn't sure what to make of. His fingers wrapped around my wrist tightened. "I assumed you were intelligent enough that if you ran into trouble, you'd call me."

"Well, what if I didn't have _time_ to call you? What if someone like James or Victoria happened to be passing through?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "There are no other vampires in the area. Do you honestly think I don't check?"

"You really haven't been following me?" This actually bothered me for a whole slew of reasons. Every time Peter said something like this, little thoughts in the back of my head started itching for attention, and they were the kinds of things I didn't want to think about—the whys.

"No, but I might have to start."

I frowned. "Now you're concerned?"

"About things like vampires coming to snack on you? No." He narrowed his eyes. "What has me concerned is this: exactly what sort of crazy shit have you been up to, since you apparently thought that no matter what happened I'd be there to bail you out?"

His worry was baseless. I hadn't done anything even remotely reckless in all the time I'd been staying with him, but still, the thought was unsettling. I'd been alone out in the world this whole time. Alone, and lately, somewhat happy. I wondered if that meant something.

I refused to let my mind linger on the thought that it felt weird to be trusted.

"I guess I just assumed…"

"Not surprising," Peter said with an indulgent smile. "You're so narcissistic; I can't believe Carlisle didn't want to study you."

I did my best to make him spontaneously combust through sheer willpower.

"Don't give me that look. I've gotten used to your crazy, self-centered behavior by now."

"Liar," I accused before realizing that I'd just agreed with his assessment. I hurried to cover my tracks, even though it wouldn't do any good. "You're just so arrogant that you've convinced yourself you're above caring."

Peter looked taken aback for a moment, and then began laughing. "You may be right about that."

"We need to have boundaries, Peter," I said, determined to change the subject. "I don't need your help with this."

"Well," Peter said. "Who said it was all about you?"

I froze, and Peter took the opportunity to tug on my arm again; this time I didn't resist. I let my cheek settle on his shoulder and closed my eyes despite my mind racing with all the reasons this was a horrible idea.

"You remind me of someone I thought I knew," Peter said. My eyes snapped open, but I kept my mouth shut. His shoulder rose as he took a deep breath, but he said nothing else.

I could have asked who, but I had a good hypothesis and pushing him never worked out well. Instead of asking questions I said, "You don't remind me of anyone." It wasn't true in the strictest sense. I'd thought many times that Peter and Jasper were so alike it was uncanny—but while their temperaments and mannerisms where similar, there was a distinct difference between the two men. It was hard to put into words, but that difference was unmistakable.

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" Peter wondered.

"You first." Everything about this—the proximity, the conversation, the implications—made me extremely nervous.

"Quid pro quo, huh?" He was silent for a couple minutes. I didn't dare ask again. "A good thing, I think."

"Agreed," I whispered.

"I think that if I could sleep, I wouldn't. Not if I could help it. And let's face it, I'm a stubborn son of a bitch—I'd go days. Like you used to. This isn't pity; it isn't me feeling sorry for you. I'm not trying to rescue you from whatever demons are circling. It's…"

I craned my neck to watch him as he tried to come up with the right words. In some ways I appreciated that he struggled sometimes. It made me feel like we were on the same plane.

"It just is what it is." The set of his jaw was hard, and he didn't look happy with what he'd come up with.

I didn't know what else to say to that but, "Thanks."

I didn't want to give up this new way we'd found to talk to each other, so next I asked him something small, inconsequential, really. I wanted to know something meaningless about him. "What's your favorite thing that you have now, that you didn't have then?"

"When I was human?" Peter asked, and I nodded. "That's easy. T-shirts."

I was torn between laughter and befuddlement. "Really?"

"Yes. The dress code these days, it is so relaxed. That you can plaster whatever you would like to tell the world across your chest, I think that is brilliant."

"I have _never_ seen you in a t-shirt," I pointed out. Peter dressed casually, but, like Jasper, he seemed to prefer long sleeves and button downs.

"I tend to tell the world what I think of it on my own just fine."

I couldn't help but laugh. "That's an understatement."

"You though," he said, a mischievous smile creeping over his face. "You could benefit from a couple dozen t-shirts."

"I don't want to know what sort of suggestions you have."

"Are you sure? I bet I could come up with some good ones." Peter tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch as he thought; the drumming lulled me to relax. "Just be quiet and go back to sleep. I was kind of enjoying myself before; you know, when you weren't talking."

"Funny."

I didn't fall back asleep, but I did sit for a couple hours with Peter, desperately trying not to think of how nice it felt to share some closeness.

* * *

Over the next week my nightmares all had one thing in common—Peter.

I never remembered much of them when I woke up, only that he was there, in the shadows. Watching. Waiting. Something indecipherable pierced the set of his eyes, and in many ways I was afraid. Mostly, though, there was a heavy sense of foreboding as I waited, too, for whatever was coming.

I didn't ask Peter any more questions, and I didn't allow myself any more late nights curled up on the couch. In my moments of clarity it was obvious that I was trying to pull back, to keep from getting to know him any better and to prevent him from seeing any more of me than he already had. It was something involuntary, at first. Some instinct raging inside me, and one I wasn't sure I wanted to control. I felt helpless every time that overwhelming sense of tension settled when Peter was around.

If I let myself, now I didn't just have reasons not to go home, but reasons to stay—and that had never been part of the deal.

The pretend sense of familiarity where Peter and I teased and mocked each other was gone, replaced with something meaningful. I couldn't deny that Peter wasn't only doing a job, and like with almost everything else, I wasn't ready for this. I was so tired of making excuses, and I didn't know how to make myself stop.

I avoided him the best I could—not an easy feat considering we'd gotten used to spending almost all of our free time together—and I threw myself into any activity I could find.

I sorted the stacks of photos I'd taken since my birthday into storage boxes, which Peter immediately stole and created portfolios out of. He said it was because it was stupid to take all these pictures if I was just going to keep them hidden away. I thought he was probably talking about something else.

I allowed myself to be conned into helping Sheila with a bake sale for her son's football team. Peter took it upon himself to memorize the recipe for my contribution and buy the ingredients. He hovered in the kitchen with a disgusted look on his face and running commentary about whether or not various human deserts could be converted into vampire treats.

He invaded each and every distraction I came up with.

Ever since that night on the couch I wasn't sure how to act around him. I was a live-wire. I crackled with uncertainty laced with reluctant gratitude and irritation for all the things Peter did to help me with no regard for whether or not I wanted him to. I was starting to believe that he actually cared about me in a more substantial way than a guardian cares for his charge. I didn't know what that meant, and I didn't want to. The only thing I'd expected from him was a calm indifference, and I hadn't planned to deal with anything else.

Peter made me feel like an awkward, bumbling little girl who didn't know how to run free, and never mind that it was perhaps the most accurate assessment of myself I'd ever found, I didn't like that it had to come from him so forcefully. I didn't like the way he made me feel exposed.

Peter would smile, or make a joke, and those were the days I had the most trouble with. Peter's needling was something I'd gotten used to and had learned to expect. This other side of him, the part that I thought might actually see me as a person instead of a job to do, that was what set my teeth on edge. A couple of times I could have sworn he was trying to dissect me from across the room.

And somewhere in the mess of trying to distance myself while analyzing Peter, something changed. Amidst the smiles, jokes, and snarky comments, Peter created a little distance of his own. He locked away his stack of folders and deleted all the video surveillance from his computer. He didn't find people any more.

* * *

The first time it snowed, I had a panic attack.

It was nothing, the flakes melted away the moment they touched the ground, but I looked out the window and all I could see was red, red, red. Little phantom drops went curling down my fingertips; ashes and smoke forced their way into my lungs.

Peter obviously had no idea how to deal with a hyperventilating human. In the end he stepped in front of me, blocking my view out the window, and said, "You going to tell me what this is all about?"

"I'd almost forgotten it—the blood in the snow." My voice sounded dead. "The smoke and ashes…"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Of course. I should have known that in the midst of a battle between covens, you'd manage to be bleeding. Christ, you're almost as bad as Jasper."

"I cut myself with a rock," I said, completely detached from the explanation, "to distract her."

Peter gaped at me. "I honestly can't decide if that was incredibly brave of you, or the stupidest thing I've ever heard of."

"It was stupid," I supplied, feeling a little calmer. I took a few steps back, and after assessing me for a moment, Peter returned to his seat across the room. "So little of what I do is actually brave."

The weight of that day constricted my heart, and where before it had felt like some terrible nightmare I couldn't escape; now it was real. I'd been sleepwalking ever since that girl looked at me, and I didn't know how to wake up. I only knew that I wanted to.

"There's no rule that says you can't be both."

"It didn't even help. I thought Seth was hurt and I reacted without thinking. The only thing I accomplished was to make everything harder on the people who were trying to protect me." My mind wandered back to that day. "It's always like that, though. I'm never able to help in any real way."

"Have you ever considered that maybe it's worse being the one to have to act?" Peter asked. "Having someone else's life hanging on the decisions you make isn't any easier than being useless. This event you keep coming back to is over. It's done. You can't turn back the clock by sheer force of will and erase what happened."

I didn't have it in me to deal with Peter's goading. "Is it so much to ask that if you can't be a little nice, you just leave me alone?"

"I am not a comforting person." Peter said seriously. "That's not how I'm built."

I didn't know what else to do, so I nodded. I was less bothered by it than I would have thought, and there was something in his honesty, in the way he was so confident and sure of what made him that made me feel better nonetheless.

"If we're going to be friends, then maybe you should at least try." It was a cheap shot and I knew it. Peter and I—we had a connection. It was something strange and mystifying, built into the things we didn't know about each other but still understood. We weren't friends, though. I couldn't imagine we ever would be.

He watched me from across the room; I could feel the weight of his stare as it settled over me, becoming heavier second by second. I had to force myself to blink. He stood, and something in his expression shifted. "What is it, exactly, that you want from me?"

I let out a breath, and told him the one truth I was sure of. "I don't know. I just want you to try."

Peter looked be giving great consideration to this, and I caught a flash of something unsure when he came to a decision. He said nothing when he crossed the room, or when he lifted his hand to my cheek. His touch was rougher than Edward's had been; Peter wasn't as concerned with whether or not he would hurt me. He knew himself, and he knew his boundaries better than Edward ever had.

I found my voice when his thumb swept under the apple of my cheek. "What are you doing?"

He leaned closer, his nose a hair's breadth away from mine; his eyes hooded, but still so intensely red. He was biding his time. Peter excelled at waiting for just the right moment. I faltered, glanced down at his lips, and that was when he struck. He was hard, fast, out of control passion slamming me back while keeping me steady with a hand tangled through my hair. My back hit the wall with a controlled force; just hard enough to jostle, but not enough to cause pain.

I barely noticed his grip on my thigh, or his leg wedged between mine. I pulled at the collar of his shirt so hard I felt the fabric give, and it made me feel strong. Apparently vampires weren't the only ones who could destroy something with their bare hands. The completely inappropriate thought flew through my head that I was so very thankful for his short hair, because that meant there was absolutely nothing in this moment that held any similarity to kissing Edward. His lips were fierce against mine, and there were no little pecks or chaste warm-ups. The rush that jolted through me was incredible.

I didn't know kisses could be like this.

Our pace slowed from desperate to something slightly more leisurely, and at long last my brain caught up with my body. I didn't know what had prompted this. I didn't know why or when, and I was shocked to find that I didn't care.

Peter tugged on my hair twisted through his fingers and kissed my jaw before lowering his mouth to my neck. For a moment I was afraid, but then his lips pressed against my skin and he didn't feel cold. I let out a breath.

His grip on my thigh lessened, and I felt more of my weight settle on my feet―I hadn't even noticed he was holding me up. His palm dragged up and over my hip, slid up my side under my shirt, and I was sure I might catch fire any second. Everything felt a thousand times more potent; the friction between us, the too small gusts of air drawn into my lungs. I could feel him pressed against my hip, and I was suddenly so, so aware of his leg wedged between mine.

"Oh my God." They were less words than a moan tearing its way out of my throat.

"Feel better?"

I could only nod, mouth agape. What had just happened?

"Good." Peter released his hold on me and stepped back, a curious look on his face. His lips were caught halfway between a smirk and a smile, but his brows were furrowed when he walked away.

My back slid down the wall; my legs could do nothing to support me. I found myself whispering, "Wow."

There wasn't anything else I could think. Just… wow.

And in that moment I wanted nothing more than to call Rosalie, to tell her all about the time I kissed a man for no good reason, and how amazing it felt.

* * *

**A/N: I'm just going to be hiding under that rock over there. *dustcloud***


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Beta'd by sweeneyanne and pre-read by aerobee82 & AlexisDanaan. They all deserve medals or something for putting up with crazy-me spazzing out over it.**

**Don't own Twilight.**

**Chapter 12 - How It Will End**

I never understood people who would go for a run to clear their head, but after putting up with twenty-four hours of Peter pretending nothing had happened, it seemed like a prime opportunity to figure it out.

In all honesty, I'd started out operating under the ignore it and it will go away premise, too. The moment the haze cleared and I picked myself up off the floor, sanity came tumbling in along with better judgement. I didn't want to have to deal with something like this, and denial sounded like a wonderful solution. That sort of thinking hadn't lasted long. By two in the morning I'd managed to cycle through an absurd amount of possible reactions ranging from crazy to absolutely insane, all of which I hated. I couldn't stand thinking about it anymore.

I ran circles around the block until needles stabbed my lungs and my side cramped. My mind fell blissfully silent for the last half a block I managed before it started to feel like my chest was about to cave in. I had to drag myself back to the house.

The problem with hoping to avoid your vampire roommate is that it's impossible.

"What's eating you?" Peter asked. He eyed my sweaty clothes in distaste before returning his attention to the book in his lap. How ironic that now I was the one running and he stayed locked up in the house reading.

I stood panting by the front door. Waking up next to Peter on the couch had been enough to infuse uncertainty into every moment I spent in his presence; this was a thousand times worse. I didn't know how to do this—how to stand here, looking at him, knowing how his lips and hands felt against my skin, and realizing that it hadn't been an unpleasant experience.

I had a thousand questions I wanted answered, but no idea which ones I should ask first. Despite all my agonizing over what to do, I knew that the reality was that I had two options: I could let all these questions fester and drive me crazy until I started demanding answers, which would invariably end with Peter on the defensive, or I could choose to let it go. Staring at Peter, so tense and wound as he waited for me to answer him, I knew which was the better course of action. Of course, I could also just come out and ask now.

"Do we need to talk about it?"

I should have known better than to expect anything less than short of the most frustrating answer possible. "Not yet."

It wasn't a yes or a no, and it was worse than either. Not yet implied something was coming, that I had to wait for him to formulate what he wanted to say to me. Not yet meant this wasn't over.

I didn't bother replying. I stormed right back out of the house and ran another lap around the block before sneaking in the back door.

I hated that I couldn't place all the blame on him. Peter may have been the first one to cross the line, but I'd jumped over right after him, and now everything was twisted beyond recognition. If I'd only been able to pull away, to keep my head instead of getting sucked into the moment, maybe it wouldn't feel like everything was such a mess. I couldn't be too angry with him for not knowing what to say, because I didn't know, either. Mostly I hated that Peter was obviously trying to sort something out for himself, and had been for some time now, so it felt unfair to push.

Two hours of lying awake in bed later, and I realized that I didn't have much control over how much or how little thought I gave this new development teetering into existence. Peter had asked what I wanted from him—what I'd failed to realize in that moment was that I really should have asked him the same question.

The next day I obliterated the imaginary border surrounding Andover and sought distractions in Wichita. I felt ridiculous when I marched into the largest hotel lobby I could find and parked myself in front of the tourist brochures. Part of me was aware that it was particularly childish to seek out events and areas which would make it harder for Peter to keep track of me, but the saner part of me had been locked away by the overwhelmingly determined side that was convinced that keeping Peter at a distance would wipe away all my discomfort. I needed time to think, and I couldn't do that with Peter around.

I spent hours in museums and quaint coffee shops, desperate for enough distance to be able to see the situation I'd found myself in with any sort of perspective. The only thing I ever managed to determine was that I was confused. Every aspect had me conflicted, because a huge chunk of me was filled with guilt while another could see that there was little reason to feel that way.

Last week I could say that I'd only kissed two people in my life. It was the little, meaningless things like this that nagged me as the sun set and I walked through the Arkansas River Trail. The trees closed in on the worn out path, and in some ways I was right back where I was last September; surrounded by leaves and branches, sloppily trying to find something lost to me. Then it had been Edward, now, I wasn't so sure. All I wanted was to spend a few days mourning what seemed more and more like the definitive end to whatever was left of my relationship with Edward. Because this guilt was madness. There was no reason for it, and yet it churned within me, constant, taunting, and begging to be let loose.

I hadn't thought of him much lately, and in some ways that seemed like the biggest crime I could commit. His name should have been more than a fleeting comparison floating through my head. We weren't together, I didn't know if we ever would be again—but for a brief moment I felt wrong, like I'd done something terrible by letting Peter press his lips and hands to me like it was of no consequence. Then, immeasurably worse, because I'd thrown myself into the moment and kissed him back.

There was something wrong with me. Maybe what I really needed to do was talk to Edward—get some sort of reminder that we were operating as separate entities now, and the only thing we owed each other was atonement for all the ways we'd screwed things up. I understood that part, now. Edward and I had both made many mistakes, and they all led to a place where one of us had to walk away.

It didn't make me feel any better.

Deep down I knew little of my apprehension on this matter had to do with Edward, and this begged a far more complicated question. What did Peter want? Because for all he tried to play it off like it was nothing, I wasn't sure I believed him. Peter had a set of basic reactions, and I'd lived with him long enough to be able to identify them without much effort. Something had touched a nerve. At some point after he let me nap on the couch with him and before he kissed me, something had flitted through that brain of his that he didn't want shared.

I thought that if it was one issue or the other I'd be able to handle it. If there was just thoughts of Edward, or Peter refusing to say anything, that would be fine—but I couldn't deal with both. I was being pulled toward two extremes, and I couldn't sort anything out because this time it was like moving on with nowhere to go. Even if there was the possibility of something more with Peter, I would never consider it. He played his cards too close to the chest. There was just too much about him I didn't know, too many questions he might not ever answer, and I had to admit that it mattered, because at some point I'd started to care about the son of a bitch.

Still, my mind strayed and I wondered if things would be different if all there was to Peter was the surface. If there weren't any dark secrets hiding away in his past and present, would I be more willing to think about him in that way?

I made my way down the river trail, kicking the rocks out my path and enjoying the feeling of seclusion. I took pictures of the branches snapping beneath my feet and relished the freedom of not having to be quiet. It had been so long since little, human noises were something I didn't have to worry about. I hadn't taken the time to appreciate it during my time outside of Forks.

The sky began to darken, and I put thoughts of Peter out of my mind. The guide I'd picked up had been right; the view of the river was beautiful at night.

"This is definitely one of the stupider things you've done."

My whole body stiffened. I should have known that he'd be keeping careful tabs on me today. We'd parted on terrible terms, and I was far from home. I tried to settle into a mask of indifference before turning to face him. Peter wasn't fooled, but then again, he rarely was.

"I thought you didn't follow me."

"I thought I told you I was re-evaluating that decision." Peter shook his head. "You know, Jasper warned me you were like this sometimes, but I didn't believe him."

"Like what?" I asked, immediately on the defensive.

"That it takes effort to get you to let new people in. What he failed to explain was the way you deflect support with what you categorize as independence. You don't even know what independence means. It does not make you brave or self-sufficient to walk through a deserted park in the middle of the night. It just makes you a moron. We talked about this."

"I can take care of myself."

"Would you like to test that theory?" Peter asked, and I lifted my head to see fury dancing over his face. "You think that because you have survived the horrors of the vampire world that you are immune to those in the human one?" Peter stepped closer, and dipped his head to speak. "There are terrors just the same wherever you go. You forget what's out there in the dark. To be fearless of anything is stupidity of the finest degree."

He had a point, but instead of admitting it I crossed my arms and let my hold on the frustration welling inside me slack. It didn't take long. Ten seconds later, I was nearly fuming, and I had the courage to ask what I'd been dying to for two days, "Why did you kiss me?"

Peter stepped back and shook his head. "Stupidest thing I've ever done in my life."

I used to be offended by this sort of thing. "Why?"

"Are you saying you think it was a particularly smart thing to do?"

"No," I said, careful to tread lightly. "But I don't really understand what point you were trying to make."

Peter returned his attention to the surroundings. "How pissed off would you be if I said it was the only way I could think of to make you stop freaking out and shut up?"

"On a scale of one to ten? About a fourteen."

"I was curious," Peter said after a tense moment. "That's why."

My next question was laced with suspicion. "What does that mean?"

"I haven't figured that part out yet."

"And now that you're not so curious?"

"I don't know. I'll probably do it again." He said it with a casual ease, but there was a glimmer of something else there that I couldn't quite place.

"I'm not being fearless, you know," I said, ready to change the subject now that I was sure Peter wasn't going to give me any actual answers. "I checked this place out; I found it in a tourist's guide. I talked to the guy at the entrance. He said sometimes shady stuff goes down deeper in, but lots of people come here at night to look at the river. I carry pepper-spray. One of these days you're going to have to stop assuming the worst of me."

"Alright, then why are you out here? Besides the river, of course." He glanced toward the water and scoffed. Apparently he didn't understand the appeal.

I shook my head and started walking back up the trail. "I wanted somewhere calm and new; somewhere to think."

Peter huffed. "And how's that working out for you?"

I muttered, "Fantastic."

"Are you really so wound up over one little kiss?"

I glared at him. Of all the things he could say, he just _had_ to pick the one that would ensure I got riled up. "I thought you didn't want to talk about it. Or at least that's how you're acting."

He didn't. "You don't get to fall apart every time something happens that you don't know how to deal with."

"I'm not falling apart. I'm taking a walk. And it's not the kiss," I said. I was furious with myself for explaining anything, but it was impossible to hold it in. "Not entirely. It's all the things I had to think about after. It's about coming to terms with everything being different, and what I think of you."

"Oh? And what's that?" Peter asked, a shadow crossing his face.

For once I had little difficulty verbalizing exactly what I wanted to say.

"I think that at the very least you could pick a side and stick with it," I seethed, kicking up more gravel. "But no, you're always running hot and cold. You push and push, but guess what? You don't get to have everything happen on your timetable. You don't get to drag me into whatever conversations you want to have and then dig in your heels when I start asking questions.

"I have my own massive pile of issues I'm trying to work through, and the last thing I need you shoveling more onto the heap. I'm trying to think of what I'm going to do when I can't talk to my dad anymore, what life will be like if I become a vampire and wind up alone. And Edward—" And that was what it really came down to. Edward, and whether or not he was a factor in any of this.

"What _about_ Edward?" Peter asked. He hadn't taken such a fierce tone with me in ages. "You broke up with him. You left him. You gave up your rights to him months ago, and that includes the bad along with the good."

I blew out a breath and let his words sink in. When he put it like that, it all made a twisted sort of sense. "You're right."

"No, you—wait, what?" Apparently Peter had been convinced I was going to argue with him.

"You're right." It was incredibly uncomfortable to admit such a thing so plainly, and I stuffed my hands in my pockets and turned toward the river. "I don't have any right to be upset over him."

Peter stared at me for a moment, then came to stand by my side. "I didn't come here to fight with you."

"Could have fooled me."

"You know, you aren't the only one who is confused. We're both kind of fucked up, so maybe you could give me some leeway."

"Why did you come here?" I wondered.

Peter shrugged and looked out over the river. "Felt like the right thing to do."

"How's that?"

He remained silent for what felt like nearly a minute before he turned back toward the exit of the trail. "Let's go home."

I followed a few paces behind, wondering if this increasingly present concept of the right thing to do was one of those things that Peter didn't try to control. I drove back to Andover. Peter ran.

* * *

The first words out of Peter's mouth when I walked in the door were, "We should talk."

I took a seat next to him my legs curled to the side, acting as a barrier. "You're not going to kiss me again, are you?"

Peter turned his head and shot that look of his at me that said he thought I was crazy. "You are never going to let that go, are you?"

"Not until you explain to me why you did it."

He set his jaw, and I could actually see another biting retort roll halfway out of him before he pulled it back. "Because I wanted to."

There wasn't much I could say to that. I plucked a book from the coffee table and started reading from where Peter had left a bookmark. After a few minutes Peter turned the television on and flipped through the channels until he found an old western. I hated westerns.

"I won't make a big deal about it, if that's what you want." I flipped to the next page and smiled a little.

Peter snorted. "And what do you want in exchange for your cooperation?"

I considered my options. I could ask for something ridiculous, or something that would bother him, but there was a gnawing in the back of my mind that maybe I could posit a conversation Peter wanted to have even less than this one, and see which he would consider the lesser of two evils.

"Tell me about Charlotte." I was sure he'd refuse. It seemed Peter would always surprise me.

"What do you want to know about her?"

I shrugged, desperate to not let on how anxious I was. I'd managed to build this one thing into something ridiculously huge in my head. "I don't know. Just…what was she like?"

"She was vibrant. So full of life." Peter spoke quietly with an angry sort of reverence. Like he hated remembering her so bright. "I don't think she ever forgave me for what I did to her—for taking that life of hers away. She loved me, I believe that, but it was always at war with the part of her that hated me for the hell I sentenced her to." Peter glanced my way. "Tell me about Edward."

I had a thousand more questions, but I thought that maybe this little step was going to have to be enough. I didn't actually have any right to demand this information, and I definitely wasn't ready to think about the situation we'd found ourselves in—that Peter would rather talk about Charlotte than about kissing me.

"Edward was…" I wasn't really sure how to describe him. Finally, I went with something simple, but apt. "Edward was perfect."

Peter scoffed. "Oh, please."

"He was, and I never felt right standing next to him because of it." I ran my fingers along the cover of the book in my lap and tested the limits. "Is she dead?"

"No. What will you do when you're changed if you don't go back to him?"

I was taken aback by Peter's question even more than his blunt answer. My plans for the future weren't something I'd ever thought he might want to know. It certainly wasn't anything I wanted to think about. I took a page out of Peter's book, and deflected. "I'm not sure. Maybe I'll just stick with you."

"As if I'd let you."

"You so would." I laughed to myself and shook my head, but my humor fell away when I caught the look on Peter's face.

"Your turn."

"Are we really doing this?" I wondered. "You're just going to let me sit here and ask whatever I want, and you'll answer?"

Peter shrugged. "I guess so. Just ask."

"Is she gone for good?"

Peter nodded.

I need two deep breaths before I could ask my next question. This was dangerous territory. "It was your fault, wasn't it?"

"I made a decision she couldn't live with, and then she had a choice to make. She chose to leave." Peter leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The look on his face was intense, dangerous. "You once asked what sort of people I work for."

My gut churned, and I knew something big was about to happen. It didn't feel like something good. I closed the book in my lap and wrapped my fingers around the edges as I tried to figure out if I should blurt out the first thing to cross my mind or wait and see if he'd say it first. I needed a minute to think, some time to consider how I would feel if I was right.

I'd been aware that something about our situation didn't add up for a while, but there was much to be said for the power of denial. I'd been determined not to see the flaw in the plan, and had been happy ignoring it. Ever since I realized just how little went into 'protecting' me, I knew that there was only one reason Peter wouldn't be concerned about me running off on my own. There was only one way he could be certain that the Volturi wouldn't find us—after all, it would take a complete moron not to notice how little we were hiding.

Peter waited a moment, I wasn't sure for what, but the more seconds ticked by the more I didn't want to hear him say it. Since I knew he would, I said it first. "It's the Volturi, isn't it? You work for the Volturi."

"Yes." Peter continued, either oblivious or uncaring for the cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. "When they need an alternate method of locating someone, they come to me."

I thought my head would explode. Everything always seemed to come back to them. I was on my feet and backing away before the thought to flee crossed my mind.

"I didn't tell you at first because I didn't know you and it wasn't any of your business. After I did get to know you a little, I didn't say anything because I'd found you to be a little narrow-minded. You react emotionally instead of rationally. You still do, but it's getting to the point where you need to know."

There were many ways this could go. I could freak out, scream, yell, and generally fall apart at the seams, or I could listen to what Peter had to say and try to deal with this maturely. I'd already turned toward the first path, that was just the way I was, but I could still try for the latter and that was what I wanted to do. Still, panic chilled my veins and stole my reason. Blood rushed to my ears so loud the rest of the world was silent. A hundred questions went racing through my head, but the only one I could catch hold of was why would Jasper ever leave me here with an agent of the very people I was trying to hide from. My sight flew to the door, to the window. Peter sat silent, waiting for me to process.

Finally, I managed to breathe. "I don't understand. How could Jasper…"

His gaze turned hard and insistent. "What do you mean, how could he? This is why you came here. Demetri cannot find you, only I can. This is why you are safe with me. This is what it means when I say you cannot possibly understand how far Jasper's ties reach. I am not loyal to the Volturi; I am loyal to _Jasper._"

Peter's attitude drove mine, and in the span of a few seconds anger washed all the panic to the back of my mind. I couldn't deal with this explosive knowledge dropped in my lap as if it were something I should have seen coming. It was, but that wasn't the point.

"You should have told me."

"Perhaps." Peter's jaw flexed and his posture softened. "Yes. I should have told you."

I couldn't stop the coil of betrayal rising through my stomach. "Do they know I'm here with you?"

"No."

The tension in my legs loosened, and after another minute of silence I was able to regain the sliver of sanity I had left long enough to ask the most important question. "What happens if they ask you to find me?"

"_When_ they ask, then by a happy coincidence I will find you newborn and red-eyed, perfectly in compliance with the agreement they offered."

I had honestly expected nothing less of him; even yesterday I would have said that if there was an immediate threat, the first thing Peter would probably do was bite me. He was pragmatic in that way and he could see straight where I couldn't.

"You didn't tell me this before, because you thought I couldn't handle it." It sounded like an accusation, and after I thought about it for a moment, I decided that it was. I'd thought Peter was so different, but in the end here he was, hiding things from me for my own good just like everyone else. It pissed me off more than I could comprehend.

"Can you?" Peter asked.

I glared at him until he had the decency to look away. "You had no right to keep this from me."

"The matter of my employer was none of your business until now. Besides, you never asked, and don't try to tell me the thought never crossed your mind. I know you aren't all that surprised to hear it."

"I thought about it, a little," I admitted. "But you didn't have to make sure to confirm my suspicions at the worst possible time. You didn't have to sneak a kiss, first." And in a fraction of a second all I'd managed to push back came rushing in again, and I was livid. "What is it about you that you have to screw with my head every chance you get?"

A shadow crossed over Peter. "Stop it. Stop acting like you're the only one trying to straighten out their shit. You are not the only one confused. You are not the only one who almost got married, and you're not the only person to give up their identity for love. This is not all about _you_."

I felt a little sick. "I'm sorry—"

"_Don't._ Don't you dare feel sorry for me. I take responsibility for my actions. I know the price for what I've done."

"You mean what you did to Charlotte."

I didn't expect him to answer, but he did. "I spent many years as a soldier, much longer than she did. She wasn't suited for it. When we left, all she wanted was peace. She wanted the life she could have had if she'd never met me, or Jasper.

"She didn't want me; she wanted what she thought I could become—but that's not the way it works. I couldn't fit into the skin she'd assigned me. When she realized that, there was nothing left to keep her. She had no reason to stay. For her, I was nothing but horror." He said it all with a forced detachment, a chill set deep in his words. It was a little worrisome, but the greater part of me was focused on interpreting all he'd told me, today, and in months past.

I started connecting the dots, and that was when the anger hit me to hard to hold back. It boiled deep in the pit of my stomach and raced up my throat to spew from my lips. For the first time I understood exactly what Peter was trying not to say.

After all Jasper had told me, I couldn't imagine it. Thrashing free of one set of chains only to allow yourself to be shackled by another. I knew why Peter hadn't wanted to explain this event before, and it wasn't just because it wasn't my business or because it was a touchy subject for him. Peter didn't tell me why Charlotte left because he knew I would empathize with her, and that I wouldn't be able to trust him. I'd never given the proper amount of thought to Peter's omissions, until now. What else had he hidden from me, and why?

"It's no wonder your only friend is Jasper," I muttered. "He's the only one you can't keep out."

Peter scowled. "And what does that say about you, that your only friend is me?"

"I have Alice."

"Oh, really?" Peter asked. "When was the last time you spoke to her? At least I'm not punishing everyone who cares for letting me run away."

"At least I didn't escape one army only to enlist in another." I spat. It was a thoughtless accusation, but I couldn't deny that I hoped the words would sting.

Rage overtook Peter's face, and something flashed in those disturbingly bright eyes of his. I'd finally taken it too far, and it was incredibly scary because I'd never seen Peter out of control before. He snarled. "I will not change my nature. Not for her. Not for you. I am a fighter, I am weaponry. It is who I am, and you cannot change that. I will not play suitor to your expectations."

"I expect _nothing_ from you." It was exactly what he wanted me to say, twisted up into my own imitation of his aggressive debate. He deserved it.

"If you can't deal with this, then leave. Go crawling back to Edward. I won't change to appease your delusions of who or what I should be."

"You don't get to tell me what to do. And I don't need you lying to me for what you think is my own good. I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime. I don't need saving. Especially not from you."

"No, you don't need a savior," Peter said lowly. He leaned close enough that his breath tickled my ear. My nostrils flared. "But that doesn't mean you're solid. That you're healthy. But really, who is?"

"And, what? You have the cure for my troubles?"

"Oh, no," Peter answered. His lips brushed the shell of my ear, and he whispered, "You've got it all backwards again."

"You said 'when.'" The realization sent ice running through my veins. "The timing of this, it's not a coincidence, is it? You're telling me this now for a reason."

Peter backed off and assessed me before confirming my suspicion. "Something is stirring. I don't know anything for certain, but Jasper's heard whispers. I don't think you have very long left."

"I really am going to die, aren't I? One way or another… They're going to get what they want." For some reason it didn't bother me as much as it used to.

"Yes. Are you ready to put up a fight yet?"

I shook my head and set my jaw. Even if I hadn't been gathering my resolve, that last comment of his surely would have pushed me over the edge. "I'm getting there. I want this to happen on my terms, not theirs."

"I'll do what I can to buy you that time," Peter agreed.

"You don't have any more control over this than I do."

"No, I don't, but there's something about this that makes me want to see how long I can beat them back. I'd like to see what happens when you catch hold of your fire." Peter bowed his head, and his breath shivered down my neck. "You're like a monster whispering in my ear."

"I've never been called a monster before."

"I find that hard to believe. What do you need to happen right now, so you can deal with this?"

I tried to tamp down the anger swirling through me toward him, but it was a battle I wasn't going to win. "I need some space from you."

"Then take your time to think," Peter said. He took a step back, and then another. "I'll be around."


	13. Chapter 13

**Way too long A/N: Beta'd by the lovely sweeneyanne and pre-read (multiple times) by aerobee82 & AlexisDanaan. I lurf them all way too much. Inappropriately. You get the idea.**

**Also, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has sent reviews and PMs these past couple chapters! I've been terrible about answering them, but I read them all and I appreciate them more than I can express :-)**

**Divided is up for an Emerging Swan Award for Best Romance WIP – check it out and vote for your favorites! Voting is open through 9/21, and there's lots of great fics up: www . emergingswanawards . blogspot . com**

**Don't own Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 13 - To the Shore**

Peter didn't come home for three days. When he did, we were stuck in a stand-off. The understanding was that we were both going to do everything in our power to get the other to break. This was, without a doubt, the stupidest battle of wills we'd ever engaged in. I was going to win it if it killed me.

It was obvious Peter was angry. I was angry, too. The problem was that we were both too damn stubborn to be proactive about it. There was a war brewing. Whoever spoke first was the loser, and we were bordering on going on long enough that it was bound to turn into a matter of pride any day. I was seriously considering drastic measures to make him give in. Or at least that was how I rationalized washing all of his whites with six brand new, bright red socks. Apparently when it came to dealing with our emotions, Peter and I both had the maturity of twelve year olds.

I figured that was something I'd work on later, and he could just go to hell.

I knew I was being unreasonable. Engaging in this battle with Peter wasn't going to help anything, and I was wasting the little bit of time I had left to pull myself together enough to deal with what was coming, but that sort of rationality was fleeting. Three days wasn't nearly enough time to complete my list of all the times Peter should have mentioned that he worked for the Volturi or that he had a far bigger hand in my future than he'd lead me to believe. It wasn't enough time to convince myself that Jasper hadn't been manipulating me when he'd left certain pieces of information out, or that out of everybody, Alice should have been the one to say something. Three days wasn't enough time for any more than a fleeting curiosity of the bigger picture.

The first couple of weeks after I met Peter were nothing compared to this. Before we'd regarded each other with a cool distance. We were each assessing the other; trying to figure out what made them tick. Now we were blatantly giving each other the silent treatment. Peter was much better at it than I was, if only because he was only back for a matter of hours before he was gone again.

I was acting crazy but I couldn't help it. It was impossible to find more than five words I would even consider saying to him. It was torture being in this house bought and paid for by the Volturi. Andover used to feel like an escape—a stay of my execution—now it felt like a holding pen. Any day the Volturi could swoop down and pluck me from the gated community full of oblivious humans and do away with me however they saw fit, and the man I'd thought stood between me and them was nothing more than their instrument.

It was obvious, once I'd managed to calm down. I wasn't ready to deal with any of this. It was too much, too heavy, and I didn't have any more free passes left. Peter had told me about his affiliation in that way, at that time, and in as clear a way as he could put it for a reason—and it hadn't been because he had to, not really. He didn't say he needed to tell me, he'd said that I deserved to know. That clarification felt meaningful.

He staged that seemingly impulsive confession, and it was this realization that made me see that Peter truly was a force to be reckoned with. He didn't care if I wasn't ready to hear it, because I needed to. That was just the kind of man he was. He wrapped all his kind gestures in barbed-wire, and he never treated me like I was something more than I was. There were no pedestals involved, on either of our parts. It was something that I actually appreciated about him. It was nice, not fighting for the honor of who wasn't good enough for the other.

He told me like that because it was time, and whether or not I was ready to hear it was irrelevant. That sort of thinking was difficult to hold on to. I needed to process the logical right along with the emotional and find some balanced way to deal with Peter because leaving wasn't an option, no matter how strong the desire was at times.

Maybe—just maybe—in his own way, Peter was looking out for me. It wasn't a notion I could accept right away. It was something that had to be considered. Trying to unravel Peter's motivation and feelings was even more difficult than trying to figure out my own thoughts.

More than anything, I needed a break, which was how I found myself marching across the street and pressing my finger to a doorbell I never expected to be ringing. I didn't like to admit it, but there was a vain hope that if I could put all my concerns into purely human terms, they'd be easier to understand.

Any other day I would have laughed at the confusion fluttering over Sheila's face "Jan?"

"Hey."

Her smile faded as she got a better look at me. "Are you… is everything okay?"

I couldn't find any way to answer that question without telling Sheila far too much. In the end I settled on telling her, "No. Peter and I got into an argument."

Sheila smiled and grabbed her purse from the hall table before shrugging her jacket on. "Come on. Let's go for a cup of coffee. Any preferences?"

"As far away as we can get."

"I know just the place."

Sheila didn't ask any questions as she navigated to the highway and toward our destination. I hadn't realized she was capable of being so quiet for so long. It wasn't until we were sitting in a diner with mugs of coffee in front of us that she said anything.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sheila asked, reaching out to place her hand over mine. She might have been vapid and shallow, but she was _nice_.

"He kept something from me, and I don't know if it changes things between us."

"Secret family in Nova Scotia?" Sheila asked. For the life of me I couldn't figure out if she was serious or not.

I decided to assume she was kidding. "No, nothing like that."

Sheila cringed. "Secret family in Tampa?"

"Maybe we should talk about _your_ problems." I laughed, I couldn't stop myself.

Sheila grinned and removed her hand from mine. She drummed her fingers on the table and gave me a look that was far too perceptive for what I knew of her. "So, the honeymoon is over, huh?"

I didn't like the implication, but it was as good a way to put it as any, so I nodded.

"And you don't want to talk about it," she said, nodding to herself. "Alright, then, but you have to tell me something. How did the two of you meet?"

I had no idea how to explain this part, either. "I went to high school with a friend of his."

"It can't possibly be that innocent!" She looked downright appalled at the possibility.

For some crazy reason I didn't want to let her down. Besides, the opportunity to share the dramatic aspects of my love life came about so rarely that I found a desire to indulge. "I may or may not have been engaged to his friend's brother."

Sheila sat back in her chair, looking proud of herself. "Okay, but if you tell anyone else, say that he worked for your father, and it was a monstrously illicit affair."

"Why in the world would I say that?"

"Because that was my theory, and I really don't want to give Cathy the satisfaction of knowing she guessed right."

"Which one is Cathy?"

Sheila shook her head. It really was pathetic that after all this time I barely knew anyone. "The brunette at the end of the block who wanted you to walk her dogs."

"You know that none of that crazy stuff we said about each other was true, right?" I asked. "I don't have a drinking problem, and Peter definitely does not want a baby."

Sheila held her hands out, palms facing me. "Hey, whatever gets you going. No judgement."

I imagined my face was about the shade of her cherry-red nails. "It's not like that."

"Whatever you say, sweetie." Sheila twirled her finger around the rim of her coffee cup.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that she was delusional, or how massively disturbing it was to realize that talking about Peter like we were actually involved wasn't _that_ bizarre. I supposed playing house for nearly six months could do that.

"Are you still painting?" Sheila asked after a moment.

"What?" I had no idea how she knew I ever had been.

She shrugged at my expression and explained, "I just remember seeing you hauling all those bags from the craft store inside a couple months ago. I assumed you were painting—you had an easel and some canvases."

"Oh." I guessed that made sense. "Not really, anymore. I've been taking pictures though. I like it better."

"I don't know how you manage to do either. Have you ever thought about showing them?"

That was something I didn't even need to think about. "No."

"Private?" Sheila guessed.

"Yeah."

"You really don't want to talk about it, huh?"

"Sorry, it's just kind of personal." I shook my head and stared down at my coffee. "I'm not much for conversation today, apparently."

"That's alright." Sheila gave me a sympathetic smile, paused for a moment as if to be sure, and then launched into a thirty minute long monologue about how sure she was that her mechanic was trying to overcharge her.

It made me think of Jacob, and I wondered if I was ever going to see him again. It didn't seem likely. If he ever decided to go home, surely it would be too late. It made my heart feel heavy, and I sent out a wish that wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he'd found some happiness.

Sheila mistook my melancholy for disinterest and with another little smile paid our bill and hustled me back to the car.

* * *

I stared up at the looming pile of bricks, and found that even after an entire day of no one for company but Sheila, I couldn't make myself go inside. Instead, I got in Peter's car and drove for an hour before pulling into an empty parking lot. I told myself that I was only doing this because I needed some distance, so I could think. Having Peter gone wasn't helping, and Sheila—while being easy to talk to—couldn't be told the finer details, the ones that mattered.

If there was one thing Peter was right about, it was that we were both pretty messed up. During the darker hours of the night, I sometimes wondered if I stood Edward and Peter side-by-side, what I would see. I didn't have enough information to know for sure, but I did have enough to know that it was one of those questions I probably didn't want an answer to. Peter's damage may have been a mystery, but the way he dealt with it wasn't. Peter became instantly uncooperative when he didn't know what to do. I, on the other hand, apparently ran away as fast as I could and did very, very stupid things.

I never doubted that if he tried, Peter would be able to find me—but he didn't come popping out of nowhere like I worried he would. I didn't want him to witness this lapse of judgement. Sometimes it was far too easy to consider Peter to be the one I should be hiding from.

I had absolutely no right to make this phone call, but I couldn't talk myself out of it. Faced with a choice of who to turn to, it seemed my priorities hadn't shifted. When things got hard, I ran to Edward. Even countless miles apart, I couldn't break my dependance on him. I was selfish and raw, and desperate for someone to talk to who I was sure I wasn't angry with. It wasn't my right to disrupt his life, and it wasn't my place. I did it anyway. One of these days I was going to have to work on my impulse control.

He answered after only one ring. My stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice, and when I returned his greeting it took nearly all of my concentration to avoid throwing up all over the passenger seat.

"Bella?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?" Edward asked, sounding worried. "Where are you? Do you need help?"

"No, no," I said, forcing myself to calm down a little. "I'm fine. I just… I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

"For what?"

A hysteric laugh bubbled up in my throat. "For what? For everything. For the way I handled things, for how long I left you hanging…"

Edward sighed. "Bella, how many times am I going to have to tell you that I _want_ you to be able to see the world before you believe me?"

"About a million," I muttered.

The line was silent for near a minute before Edward asked, "Are you happy?"

It took far less time to answer this question, even though it ripped my heart to shreds. "I think I was, for a while. Now… now I'm just angry and confused. I don't think it's possible to be happy right now. There's too much other stuff weighing me down."

"I don't suppose there's anything I can do to make it better?"

"No." I smiled into the receiver and let myself breathe evenly. "But it means a lot that you want to."

Edward let out a breath against his end of the line and said, "You can talk to me about it. About anything."

"I'm not really sure what to say. I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want to hide things, either." I pursed my lips and stared out over the pavement. "I guess it'll take some getting used to."

"Let's make a deal, then," Edward said. "From now on, no matter what, we don't lie to each other. We always say exactly what we mean, and we don't hide what we think will hurt the other."

"That sounds wonderful." I felt a smile break across my face. Then, belatedly, I asked, "How have you been?"

I'd never felt so genuinely curious in my life. I wondered if this was a good omen, if the kind and inquisitive feeling racing through me at the sound of Edward's voice indicated that we were on the mend. We might not ever be what we once were, but we would always be something. The possibility made me feel hopeful in a way that I hadn't experienced in so long.

"I've been well," Edward answered, terse and short, and so obviously leaving something out.

"Only well?"

"I-I never would have thought I would say something like this to you, but I suppose it falls under our new arrangement." Edward stammered. I immediately decided that nervous Edward was adorable. "I have… I have a date?"

"Really?"

"I think so. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. Emmett is convinced it is a date. Rosalie is mostly trying to scare me, I think."

"Tell me what she's like."

"She's no you."

I couldn't think of one single thing I could say to that. In three words, Edward managed to pluck my biggest unconscious fear and set it loose: what if I did something horrible by leaving the way I did, and would he be able to move on when he did things like compare the women he met to me? In fifty years, sixty years, would I look at Edward and see Peter?

"You do know that I love you?" Edward's voice was low, and I could imagine exactly how his face looked as he asked—earnest but guarded, like he wasn't positive it was something he should say.

"I know. I love you, too. It just… it wasn't right."

"I know you felt that way," Edward said. "Even before, there was always some doubt running through your mind I could never figure out."

It could have been his wording, or that I'd spent the past three days on the defensive, but irritation rose up, no matter how ridiculous it might have been. "It's not always so simple as puzzling out the answer. I was insecure. I felt so little next to you. I wish there was some way to make you understand that."

"Just because I do not agree with your insecurities does not mean I don't understand, or that they aren't valid."

"Alright," I agreed. "Yeah, I get that."

"We could have talked about this before."

I scraped my nails along the steering wheel and considered that. "No, I don't think we could have. I didn't know how to talk about it back then."

"Then I'm glad that you've found a way to."

"I like this," I admitted. "I like being your friend."

Edward chuckled. "I never thought I'd say this, but me, too. You'll keep in touch?"

I nodded as I replied, "Yes."

Maybe it didn't have to be so bad. If Edward and I could come out of this as friends, we could wind up better off than we'd started, like me and Charlie, and the prospect was appealing. I wanted that sort of easy relationship with Edward. I'd always assumed we'd only be able to have it as lovers, but it seemed that wasn't the case.

"Whatever's wrong, I hope it gets better," Edward said. Silence spanned between us, and he said, quieter, "I wish there was something I could do, but I know you wouldn't want that even if I could. So all I can do is hope, right? I wish all the best for you."

"Thanks, Edward."

"_Anytime._" He stressed the word. "If you ever need something, all you need is to ask."

"I wish I had the power to offer you the same."

"You bring me joy. What else could I ever need?"

I thought that in this instance, in this iteration of our relationship, that could be enough. I didn't know how to express the feeling, though, so this time I let the moment pass. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Stay safe," Edward said in place of goodbye.

"I will."

I hung up the phone, rested my forehead against the steering wheel, and allowed myself a few tears for what might have been if I'd only found a way to say all these things to Edward when it might have made a difference. I let myself consider the what ifs and alternate paths we might have taken, and then, once the sadness has passed, I pulled myself up and together. If there was one thing I'd learned from this experience it was that Peter was one hundred percent correct all those times he'd told me it was pointless to fixate on the things I had no control over. This was one of those things. I couldn't change it. All I could do was keep moving on.

It used to be that everything I thought made me strong stemmed from Edward. Now that I'd put him out of my reach it was difficult to consider that I could ever feel that way again. It was still hard to see myself as significant without him—but it wasn't impossible. There were things I was good at, and friendships—both meaningful and otherwise—that I'd managed to forge outside of Edward's influence. I felt fuller.

Apparently I could drive the most stubborn man I'd ever encountered out of his home for days on end. It wasn't something I should be proud of, but in a way I was. My anger meant something to Peter, and I thought that maybe I should allow that to mean something to me in turn.

I decided that the best thing I could do for myself was stick to my routine, and not let this become something it wasn't. Part of that was admitting to myself that I kind of missed having Peter around, no matter how much of a crazy son of a bitch he was.

He eroded all my hard and insecure edges into something more manageable, and I didn't know how to adapt to these new boundaries he gave me. I just knew that I had to. This was a crossroads we were standing at, and for the first time it felt like the outcome hinged on my decision instead of anyone else's. This time I wasn't being dragged along for the ride. It was true, being the one who had to act, no matter how small the decision, was hard.

I could leave. I could go back to Edward and see what there was left of what we'd once shared—but there was a persistent nagging in the back of my head that insisted I stay put. I still didn't know what exactly had happened between Peter and Charlotte, but I _did_ know that when the chips weren't falling where she wanted, she left. I wasn't going to be like her, not this time. Now that I'd calmed down and talked through these things that had been hidden from me, I was able to see where Peter's fury had stemmed from. He'd overreacted, and he knew it, because he'd done it before. This was the second time around, for both of us.

I wasn't going to take the path I'd already traveled. It wasn't about Peter, though. When it came down to it, Charlotte and I were the ones with the most common ground; when faced with the things I didn't want to deal with I'd done just the same as her, but I refused to fall back on old habits. I ran away once and I wouldn't do it again. Not even for Edward.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Beta'd by sweeneyanne and pre-read by aerobee82 & AlexisDanaan.**

**Don't own Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 14 - Save My Soul**

For me, forgiveness was a tricky thing, and not just where it came to Peter. Time and again I'd struggled to put the past behind me, to not let it dictate my actions, and failed. Facing this new sense of betrayal and confusion I was reminded of my constant insecurities that Edward would leave me again, or my persistent fear over every moment spent with Jacob, wondering if he would take something the wrong way. I thought of the bitterness that lived so deep in me over the feeling that it was so easy for Renee to let me go, and even still, I had trouble talking to her. I'd never thought of myself as a particularly vengeful person before, but I was starting to know better—was starting to learn that there were different types of vengeance.

Five days after Peter's promise of space and two since I'd last seen him, I still spent as little time as possible in the house. I'd started to get over my aversion to it—it was just a house, after all—but I still hadn't figured out what I wanted to say to Alice and Jasper for their role, and surely clearing the air with them should have priority over dealing with Peter.

Apparently five days was long enough, though. I stormed through the front door like I had something to prove, and it wasn't until I'd tossed the keys on the hall table and toed off my shoes that I noticed that Peter had run out of patience. I was amazed he'd managed to hold out for as long as he did.

Peter stood when I caught sight of him, a frown tugging his lips downward. I thought the expression was more confused than disappointed; I was getting better at reading him.

"Surprised to see me?"

"I was starting to think that you ran away with my car."

"You thought I was going to bolt?" I didn't blame him for it. Neither of our track records accounted for any other reaction, and I had thought about it, however briefly.

"I considered the possibility."

"What would you have done if I'd left?" I wondered, trying to disguise the importance of his answer behind a stern face.

Peter knew it was a test, but it also seemed that for the first time he wasn't sure what the right answer was. A beat passed and he scowled. "I would have gone after you."

"Why?"

Peter took a shot. "Because I wouldn't want to deprive you of the opportunity to tell me to fuck off to my face."

"And the real reason why?" I asked.

"Because I promised Jasper I would look out for you. Even if we ignore the implications of that, I would feel bad if something happened to you because you felt like you had to get away from me. I'm not a monster, you know."

"I didn't call you one, but there is still one question you have to answer for me," I said, hoping I managed to convey how important it was. It would make or break whatever tentative friendship we'd managed to build. "When I helped you—"

"No." Peter interrupted with fire blazing in his eyes. "I would _never_ ask you to help find someone the Volturi wanted."

I took two even breaths before speaking. "What happens if they ask you to find me?"

"Depending on the circumstances, any number of things."

"Then give me the worst-case scenario."

"They would give me days. I'd have to change you immediately."

"You'd be the one to do it?" It set a churning in my stomach. Talking about this was no longer hypothetical. It was going to happen, and sooner than I'd expected.

"Yes, if there was no way to get Carlisle here in time. Rosalie would be able, I think, but I haven't been keeping track of where she is." Peter rubbed his hands together, thinking, and gave me a look I didn't understand. "Is that a problem?"

"No," I answered, too quick. Peter looked wary, so I forced myself to calmly clarify, "I'd be okay with that."

"I'll start keeping tabs on her and Emmett, too. Just in case."

"And you'll tell me, right? When they call you?"

Peter nodded. "You'll be second only to Jasper."

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked, feeling timid, but also determined. These were things I needed to know. "Is there anything that's going to make this easier?"

"Unfortunately, no," Peter said. "At least I don't think so. I actually don't know. I've never been in the position to prepare beforehand."

I hadn't decided to forgive him, or even if what he'd done was something I had a right to be this angry over, but I nodded my understanding. I had to at least try to be objective. "Look. I get why you didn't tell me about the Volturi thing right away. Because you're right—I would have reacted emotionally. I would have ran away from you as fast as I could, and who knows how much time we would have wasted before I would even be willing to listen to you. So, I get it. I understand why, but I don't know how to deal with it.

"I look around at this house, the car, the life I've been living here, and it's just a cage. One day the Volturi are going to ask you to pluck me out of it, and then what? How is it that nobody, not even Alice, told me that the only thing standing between me and the Volturi is you?" I gnashed my teeth together and tried to stop the anger building up in me again. I needed to keep myself calm.

"Have you talked to her?" Peter asked. He leaned forward and tilted his head to get a better look at my face.

I felt ashamed when I said, "Not recently."

"You should. The easiest way to find the answers to these questions you have is to ask."

"Don't you know?" I wondered. It was pathetic, but if it was as bad as it looked, I wanted to hear it from Peter. Alice and I had been too close; she would be too sweet, and I was convinced she already understood that a rift had grown between us. There was no other reason she'd be waiting for me to call rather than taking that step herself.

Peter pressed his hands together and kept his eyes on me. "I asked Jasper not to tell you. I can only assume he asked Alice to do the same."

A burst of air rushed from my lungs in a cross between a sigh and a scoff. "Is it ridiculous that I'm a little angry that she chose you over me?"

Peter shook his head. "Really, she was stuck between you and Jasper. He's the one who took sides, and I won't lie to you, there wasn't any reason he should have considered you over me. I knew he would agree when I asked; so did Jasper when he asked me to watch out for you. We don't deny each other those sorts of favors."

"Great. So I can't really even be mad at Jasper." Well, I could, but it wasn't going to help anything.

"What about me?" Peter asked.

I made myself look him in the eye and take care in considering the answer to his question. My face scrunched up and I tried to figure out where on a scale of one to ten I really was, now that I'd heard some explanations. "I think I understand where you were coming from. So yes, I'm angry with you, but it's complicated."

"It can't possibly be so easy." Peter narrowed his eyes. "What did you do?"

I muttered, "I might have accidentally mixed some red socks in with your whites."

"Believe it or not, I noticed." Peter only looked mildly irritated by it. Maybe he thought it was funny; either that or he just didn't care.

"Sorry." I wasn't, but telling him that wasn't going to get us anywhere. "I over-reacted, but so did you. You lashed out at me for something that wasn't my fault. You treated me like I'm to blame for things I had nothing to do with. I'm not Charlotte, and I won't let you talk to me like I am."

Peter nodded, and tilted his head to stare at me through his lashes. "I know. It's just—look; I won't patronize you with rationalizations. I shouldn't have said those things to you, and I'm sorry."

"I know we're not exactly buddies," I said, "I mean, we're friendly, sort of. We've been cooped up in this town together for six months. We get along. That means something, right?"

Peter looked like he was fighting the battle of his life trying not to roll his eyes. "I suppose."

"Then why don't we talk to each other? I talk, sometimes I manage to badger you into talking—but we don't really converse. I don't understand you, and I think that's my problem. That there's this huge thing you dumped on me, and I never know how much more ammo you have left."

"I don't know what you expect me to do here."

"You tell me everything," I said. "You explain it all, at least the stuff that has to do with me. Right now. No censorship. No hiding. You're always expecting the same from me."

"No I'm not," Peter scoffed. "You've got it in your head that I have this need to control when and what is disclosed, but you have every right to refuse explanations, too. Just because you're open and willing to talk about all the darkness clawing at you doesn't mean I have to, too. You could say no when I ask questions. You could tell me to shut the fuck up and leave you alone. I won't be held to your standard. I'm not going to tell you whatever you want just because you believe I owe it to you.

"However," Peter said pointedly when I opened my mouth to give him the biggest verbal thrashing I could come up with, "don't take that to mean I won't give you explanations. Just don't misunderstand my motives. The things I choose to share with you are because I want to. Not because I feel obligated. You shouldn't settle for anything less, anyway."

There was so much I wanted to say in response, but my curiosity won out. "Why did you start working for them? What made you turn away from Maria, only to wind up with the Volturi?"

Peter flexed his jaw and spoke with a disturbing amount of detachment. "You are not the first person to seek refuge with the enemy."

I hated it when he pulled this type of thing. "Don't speak in riddles."

Peter sighed. "I assume you know the basics of what happened?"

I nodded.

"There would have been repercussions for my actions. Maria may have been content to let Charlotte and I go, but taking Jasper? That was a whole new level of treason. I knew that if—when—she came after me, it wouldn't have been me who paid for what I did. Jasper had connections, even back then; it was in my best interest to forge those ties as well."

I had never fully understood where the whole light bulb flashing thing came from until that moment. "You did it to keep her safe, didn't you?"

"Sooner or later, someone would have come after us. I did what was necessary to save us both. It's yet another thing you and I have in common, when logically we should be complete opposites."

"Why didn't you just explain—?"

"You think I didn't?" Peter interrupted. "Charlotte wanted peace, and she couldn't have that with me. I couldn't resign myself to a life spent running away. She could, and most of the time I don't fault her that.

"All I wanted was to live my life how I saw fit. To love her, and have her love me for who I am. I made concessions, I tried to be the man she needed, but it's not in me to give up the fight. I am not a peaceful person. I cannot stand idle when I could be moving."

"When you said that you and I have much in common—more than I realized—is this what you were talking about? That we both found that just loving someone wasn't enough to give us what we needed?"

"That is one thing, of many."

"What else?" I wondered, ready to ease the conversation away from the minefield that was Charlotte. I'd learned what I needed to.

Peter glared toward the deserted playground at his right. "I was naïve, like you, once. I believed in absolutes and the world as I perceived it to be. I found myself cast to sea and drowning, with only Jasper to pull me ashore."

"You told me once that he didn't care about you like he cares about me."

"He doesn't," Peter said gruffly. "Jasper and I—we are two sides of a coin. We are kindred."

For some reason I found myself jealous. "I can't imagine what that's like."

"From what you've told me, you and your father share a relationship not all that different."

"I miss him," I confessed, instantly deflated. "I never knew him, not until I started living with him, and it seems so bleak, a future without Charlie."

"In a way, that is the nature of all relationships shared between parents and children. There's always an inevitability of loss."

I still didn't like talking about Charlie with Peter very much, so though my mind spun trying to figure out how I was going to keep the promises I'd made him, I asked Peter something else. "When I first came to stay with you, all those things you said, were you really talking about me that whole time?"

Peter flexed his jaw and balled his fingers into fists. "No. That wasn't all about you. That was my baggage."

I resisted the urge to reach out to him. There was no telling if I would stroke his hair in an attempt to comfort or slap his face because even after I'd sorted out all my feelings, I was angry with him for piling his problems on to me. I had enough baggage of my own.

"I think—" Peter stopped for a moment to regain his bearings. "I think I understand more now. I get why she left, and I always said I didn't blame her before, but maybe I did. I don't anymore." He shifted his eyes to mine. "I get why she had to leave."

"How did you deal with it?" I wondered. I wasn't even going to try to pretend I wasn't doing the same thing he'd done. It felt like knowing this would somehow help resolve some of the things I still wondered about Edward.

Peter knew exactly what I was angling at. "That's different. I knew it was my fault, and I had time to prepare for it. Charlotte leaving was a consequence of my actions, and it was a price I paid willingly."

"Does that make it better or worse?"

"As much as I would like to lie to you, I much prefer the way it happened. I knew it was coming. I was ready for it."

"And Edward was blindsided," I said, completing the thought.

"I know you think that, but believe me, he had to have known something was wrong. You have a terrible poker face."

"Yeah," I nodded. Edward may not have known I was going to leave, but he certainly knew something was coming.

Peter hummed his agreement and relaxed. "You look like you've got something else on your mind."

"I just don't get it," I said, unsure of what I was about to ask. It'd been a while since an inquiry had felt so childish. "You could have anything you wanted. Working for the Volturi, you have to be loaded. Why do you live here? Why no outrageous cars, no working air conditioner. I've seen the luxury surrounding the Volturi, surely that is all available to you, too."

"I'm not the kind of person who feels the need to make up for the things missing by collecting useless declarations of wealth." Peter tilted his head to catch my eye, and I caught his lip twitch. "If you were to examine my life, you would find that I have everything I need."

"What about Charlotte?" I challenged.

I thought that he probably wouldn't answer me, but after two deep breaths he sat a little straighter, and said, "I don't need Charlotte. I wanted her—more than you could possibly imagine—but I've lived without her for forty years. I don't need her."

"Are you happy without her?" I wondered. Our conversation was starting to hit far too close to home for me. Peter had been right when he told me we had much in common, and this shared experience of leaving the person you loved was just one of many things that was the same in our histories.

"I am…" Peter wrinkled his nose and seemed to search for the correct word before making up his mind. "I am content. Whether or not that equates to happy is a matter of much debate amongst your kind."

"And yours," I argued. I couldn't stand being sorted into a whole different spectrum of expectations and requirements just because I was human.

"True."

"You stopped working." I knew it meant something.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Peter frowned and drummed his fingers against the couch cushion. "It didn't feel right."

I thought that probably meant more than anything else he'd given away. And so I smiled at him the best I could after such a heavy and drawn out conversation about life and death, and sat next to him with my feet tucked to the side. Peter looked like he was going to say something, but didn't. He stared for a moment and then nodded, and slid his book across the coffee table toward me before settling back.

"I think you should start it up again."

Peter glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "You do, huh?"

"Yeah. The legitimate ones… I liked helping you with them." It was difficult to admit. I'd always given Peter a hard time about his job, and I'd never let on that I had come to find a small amount of fulfillment in it.

He laughed quietly and stood. "That's something I never expected to hear from you."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."

"Maybe not." Peter crouched next to his desk and pulled a file out of the bottom drawer before pushing it closed and standing in the same swift movement. I'd assumed he'd hidden that stuff better. Or burned it. He held the file out to me. "If you want to work, then work."

* * *

I had learned to be something of a morning person over the past couple of years, but being dragged out of bed at five was something I wouldn't ever be able to appreciate.

A hand squeezing my shoulder jerked me awake. My eyes flew open to see Peter standing at the side of my bed, a small smile on his face.

I responded by pulling the covers over my head and ignoring him. Not ten seconds later the bedding was pulled back again. I glared up at Peter with all I was capable of half-asleep. "_What_?"

"Get up. I've got a surprise for you."

"Later." It came out as a whine, but I couldn't care. "It's too early. Go away. Come back later."

"No can do." He reached for my arm after a moment, and I sat up before he could pull me off the bed or something equally obnoxious.

I scrambled off the bed and gathered the sheets and blankets around me with as much anger as I could muster. "Do you have _any_ idea what time it is?!"

Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You look like an idiot."

"I do not!"

"You're wearing your bed covers like they're a cape."

I immediately dropped said bed covers. "What do you want?"

"Calm down, Supergirl. Get dressed. Have some coffee." Peter raised an eyebrow. "You obviously need it."

I didn't stop glaring until long after we were out of the house and in the car. It wasn't until Peter parked on the street across from the park that curiosity finally beat out my grumpiness. "What are we doing?"

"You'll see," Peter said. He shot me an obnoxiously self-satisfied smirk. "It'll be fun."

"I'm sure."

"You'll like it." He sounded so sure of himself as he marched me through the park and toward the fishing area just past the pond.

It wasn't until we stepping onto the wooden planks stretching over the water that I noticed it. Tied at the end of the dock there was a little rowboat, and I halted my strides and stared, confused and a bit touched. I couldn't believe Peter had done something like this. I was immediately suspicious. "Why?"

Peter snorted, and looked highly amused. "You mean you don't know? It's my grand gesture. Something so over-the-top nice that you can't help but melt into a pile of gooey forgiveness. Not that I really think it's necessary, but there's something to be said for overkilling it. Besides, I'm sick of guarding my laundry for fear of more pink underwear."

"Wow, I'm good. I was only going after your socks."

"Well, it was either retaliate or rent you a boat, and I'm betting you already have pink underwear."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to hug or slap him. "How did you know?"

"You look like the type. I bet they have ribbons, too." Slapping Peter, it was. He glanced at me before staring back out over the water. "You talk in your sleep sometimes. Not often. Jasper had led me to believe it would happen a lot more than it does. Anyway. You talk about boats when you're not talking about books."

"I do?" It went without saying that Charlie probably featured in this sleep-talk, too, but Peter left him out of it.

"Yeah."

Something clicked into place, and I could hardly believe the conclusion I came to. "You bought all those books in Nebraska, didn't you? I always thought it was Alice."

Peter gave a sharp nod in response. It was like suddenly realizing that I had been trying to put a puzzle together with only half the pieces.

"Why?"

"Why not? I thought all you ever did was read."

"And the non-insulting reason would be?" I asked. I tried arching my brow in the way he could pull off so well, but I didn't think I quite managed it.

Peter frowned and after a moment admitted, "You seemed like you could use a random act of kindness."

"You're a complete softy at heart, aren't you?"

Peter bowed his head and laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know."

I didn't really know what to say to any of this. It was unprecedented. I never would have expected anyone to do something like this, and especially not Peter. "You want to come along?"

"No." Peter shook his head. "Maybe next time."

I couldn't deny I was happy he declined. "Okay."

"Just don't sink," Peter warned as I stepped into the boat. "I don't want to have to go in there."

Rowing was harder than I thought it would be. After five minutes my arms ached, but once I settled the oars back on the sides and started drifting, it was well worth it. If possible, it was even more beautiful out in the middle of the water. I could see why Charlie liked this so much. I'd have to go fishing with him sometime. He'd see right through it, know something was wrong, but hopefully I could pass it off as missing him while I was away.

Out in the calm of the lake, everything felt a little easier. The dark haunting me wasn't so black, and all the things I'd struggled with for months on end looked so simple.

I couldn't change anything that had already happened—I knew this, and I accepted it—but while parts of the future may have been written in stone, that didn't mean that I had no control over it. I still dictated my path, and I decided right there, watching the water ripple, that walking toward that future with my head held high and spirit intact was the best thing I could do for myself. I would lose Charlie, but I wouldn't trivialize that loss by pretending that he was being ripped from me.

I'd made my choice long ago, and for many reasons. Some were still valid while others weren't, but one piece would always remain static. I chose this path to protect the people that I loved, and not even the Volturi could take that away from me.

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**A/N: The next couple chapters are in the process of being pre-read/beta'd, so it shouldn't be too long. We're coming up on that point where I've pretty much written half of everything left and am driving myself insane filling in the gaps. *snort* Anyway, assuming I can keep myself from devouring all the fics in random other fandoms and can stop playing video games from High-school long enough to write, it should be pretty smooth sailing from here on out. Knock on wood. -)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Beta'd by sweeneyanne and preread by aerobee82...like six times. (ILY)**

**Don't own Twilight.**

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**Chapter 15 - A Verse, Chorus, and Such**

Until I moved to Forks, I always considered myself an optimist. I wasn't sure when I'd managed to lose that, when it had been siphoned from me and how to get it back. It was hard to be so stuck on the negative all the time, but more than anything else, it was frustrating.

I knew and understood why Peter had done things the way he had, but resentment was much harder to let go of than fury. I only knew that I had to, and the only way to do that was persistence. Every time I ran through the chain of events with an even head a bit of that lasting anger melted away, and I started to see that really, I didn't have to forgive Peter for anything. My acceptance of the situation was all that either of us needed, and I was finally in a place where I could give that. Before long, I started thinking forgiveness wasn't all that hard, either.

There were better things to spend my energy on, things I could still influence, rather than this pitiful resentment that I couldn't do anything about now. So what if we'd argued and disagreed, that I felt like I'd been handled? Peter had shown some measure of remorse for it, and in many ways the apology he gave me was far more genuine than anything else I'd ever received before. With Peter you had to earn even the smallest of gestures, and he always meant far more than he said.

So in the end it didn't matter that Jasper and Peter had allowed me to blind myself. What mattered was that I soldiered on, so I could prove to myself I was able. It was time to start thinking about what was coming.

We kept a cautious distance from each other. Peter didn't prod too much, and for my part I tried to be gracious for it.

There was no denying he'd tried to make things right, and he had, for the most part, succeeded. He may have called renting a boat and sending me out on the lake alone a grand gesture, but in reality it was something very small, and it meant all the more because of it. It was a little, multi-layered message; that he knew more than he let on, but never used it to his advantage; that he kept my secrets, and that he understood how much Charlie meant to me. It felt like he was saying that the little niche I'd carved out for myself in the park could be mine, but just because I was alone didn't mean I had to be lonely, too.

I thought that maybe the best way to get my thoughts sorted out was to actually spend some time with Peter, and not bumming around the house, like we'd been doing from the start. Peter seemed amused by the idea, but that didn't stop me from dragging him out every evening to walk around the neighborhood. It was a good activity, mostly because whenever he pissed me off I could start running and burn off steam. There was an added bonus in the never ending irritation he found in the Christmas decorations starting to pop up.

I had a lot I wanted to talk to him about. There were decisions that needed to be made, and I wanted to be informed about what was likely to be my life going forward. Peter did his part—he answered my questions with the kind of brutal honesty I'd learned to appreciate him for—and it wasn't long before I supposed I could look Peter in the eye and say that yes, I was finally ready to start fighting, but I wasn't quite sure what that_ meant_—there wasn't anyone to fight against yet. I supposed the point was that when it was time, I'd stand for what I believed in.

I may not be able to change what had happened or what was to come, but that didn't mean I had to lay passive. I had a limited time to make plans, and I wasn't going to waste any more of it.

"What would happen, exactly?" I asked. I tugged my jacket closer. Whenever these nervous questions surfaced, my paces sped. I knew Peter noticed, and was convinced he found it to be a hilarious tell.

"Didn't Edward already go over this with you?"

I frowned. "Sort of. He never wanted to talk about it much. We'd made plans to go to Alaska; Charlie would think I was at school."

"That's as good a plan as any," Peter waited for a moment. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"No, I just… I don't think I want that to be what happens anymore. It doesn't seem fair to them—to Edward—and from what you've told me about how sensitive I would be to my surroundings and the environment, I don't think it would be very good for me, either."

Peter tilted his head. "What are you getting at?"

I stood straight and came to an abrupt stop. "I want to stay with you."

Peter looked more amused than anything else, but still he leaned forward and cocked his head to the side, playing along. "And why on earth would you want that?"

"Because you won't baby me like they would. You'd let me try my strength but keep me from doing something I'd regret. Besides, wouldn't it be more…" I wasn't sure how to put it, or that I should say it at all, but I barreled ahead anyway. I was never going to hear the end of this. "Advantageous. It would be advantageous to let the Volturi think I'm in your care. They wouldn't meddle then, right?"

Peter chuckled. "Well, well, look at you. It's like you're all grown-up, thinking strategically and all."

"Oh, shut up." I grumbled. I shoved his arm with the heel of my hand, and starting making my way around the block again. It was getting easier to settle back into our dynamic.

"It's a decent idea, in theory," Peter said, nodding, matching my pace. "But there's the risk that they would assume me keeping you means they have a chance of acquiring you at some point down the line. In that case, you would be safer letting them think your relationship with Edward continues. The Volturi respect Carlisle, and Jasper. They would think twice about taking you out from under them. I'm a subordinate—a contractor—they wouldn't have the same qualms with me."

I allowed myself to frown, but refused to show any more disappointment than that. I didn't want to let on how much I'd come to depend on the solution I'd come up with in so short of a time.

"That's not to say it's not feasible." Peter glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "Where is this coming from? I thought you were still kind of pissed at me."

I shrugged and shuffled my feet. "I am. Sort of. But I also think that maybe being with you is better for me than the alternative."

Peter kept his sight pinned squarely on the trees lining the sidewalk. "You can stay. If that's what you want."

And because it felt like we were suddenly playing games I asked, "Do you want me to stay?"

It took Peter a moment to answer this time. "Yeah."

I was a little proud of him for managing not to be sarcastic about it. I looked down to my feet and let myself smile. "Then that's what I want."

"Jesus." Peter huffed and I glanced back up at him. "I'm going to regret this one, aren't I?"

I bumped my shoulder into his and chuckled. It finally was starting to feel like everything that had gotten shaken up and turned around was starting to right itself. "I'll go easy on you."

"You say that like you'll have any control over it."

I smirked. "Well, I promise not to enjoy it too much if I accidentally beat you up."

Peter snorted, and nudged me back. "Liar."

The conversation stalled until we looped around the half-way mark and started heading back to the house.

"I won't tell you that I'm not upset with the way things were handled—the way I was handled—but it's something I'll get over. I don't know if it makes any difference or if I even have a right to have been mad enough in the first place to say this, but I forgive you."

As quick as if it were a reflex, Peter retorted, "I don't need your forgiveness."

Instead of getting annoyed or trying to figure out what he meant, I followed Peter's lead and said exactly what I wanted, no holds barred. "I know. That's why you have it."

I caught a hint of a smile on his face. "It was the boat, wasn't it?"

I laughed, mostly because he was right. "Yep."

"You know, you're one pretty messed up human."

I rapped my knuckles against his arm and laughed. "Coming from you? You may as well be calling me normal."

"You're starting to be okay with this?" Peter asked, and though my heart sank a little with any mention of this future of mine, it wasn't anything I couldn't deal with.

"I guess so. I can't stop it, and the only thing trying ever did was take away what few choices I have left. Besides—living in hiding, in fear, it's not really living at all. I don't want that sort of life for myself."

"I can agree with that," Peter said, his voice quiet and burdened. I hadn't realized how that might sound to him.

"I wasn't talking about—"

"I know," he said, cutting me off. "I know what you meant."

I fished the car keys out of my pocket as we made our way up the driveway. "So, I'm staying with you."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Sure. We'll go back to Nebraska or something."

I made sure not to smile until I turned away from him to unlock the car.

"Where are you going?"

I wasn't about to tell him I was only going to meet Sheila for what had quickly become our weekly coffee date. Somewhere between bake sales and coffee houses, she'd wound up being somewhat of a friend. Even I would have made fun of me. I didn't bother to hide my grin as I called back, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

—

The thing about Peter was that he had an innate ability to blindside me. Just when I thought I'd gotten the hang of him, he'd throw another wrench in the works. It happened time and again, and still, I never quite managed to know when to expect him to knock my feet out from under me.

After a solid week of clawing myself out of the utter awkwardness that had descended upon every interaction with him, I should have known something was coming. Peter had an endless amount of surprises up his sleeve. He'd been oddly passive while I settled back into a grudging acceptance of life in Andover. I assumed he was giving me time to think. As it turned out, Peter had been doing quite a bit of thinking of his own.

Peter glanced up from his book when I yawned and stretched just outside the door to my bedroom. I stopped in my tracks. Orange. His eyes were bright orange; neon, almost. "What the―"

"I don't want to talk about it." Peter turned his attention back to his book, but I wasn't having any of that.

"What did you... did you go veggie?" I couldn't help giggling at his scowl. "How was it?"

"Fucking furry." Peter pursed his lips like he was trying to suck something from between his teeth, and there was no stopping the laughter this time. "Do not expect this to continue."

"I would never." I was only being a little sarcastic.

"Because there is not even the slightest possibility that I will ever subject myself to that again."

I felt particularly bold when I climbed on the couch to poke at the skin under his eyes. The orange looked ridiculous, comical, and yet warmth bloomed in my chest. I was a little surprised he let me touch him so softly; Peter didn't care for such tenderness.

"You didn't have to, you know," I said. Truth be told, I didn't mind Peter's diet, and I didn't expect him to change it for me. It was yet another inconsistency of my character. If I didn't see it, it didn't happen; or maybe I was starting to gain a greater understanding of this life and death thing. Someday I'd face the same struggle Peter did; I'd have to choose which side of the line my killings fell on.

"I didn't do it for you," Peter countered.

"Oh, don't ruin it by being all sentimental." I was getting the hang of sarcasm. "If not for me, then why?"

Peter sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

"I wanted to see what the fuss was about. Just drop it."

"Oh, I don't know if I can." I was barely holding back my laughter, and not very well. "I thought you were happy with your lifestyle."

"I am. I told you, I was curious."

I didn't really believe him; Peter always said he was curious when he needed a throwaway excuse, when he wanted to evade answering. I'd known him long enough to understand that he rarely did anything without spending a good deal of time thinking it through. He was particular and cautious, and I was willing to bet that whatever had caused him to do this, he'd been considering it for a while.

"Do not give me that look." Peter hadn't glared at me in so long, it was almost nostalgic. "Don't make a big deal of this, and don't try to turn it into something it's not."

"Only if you promise not to downplay it." I allowed myself a small measure of triumph at the scowl I caused to appear on his face. I decided that maybe Peter could do with a little teasing. "For all your talk of how set in your ways you are, this just goes to show you. I mean, look at you—changing your diet after all these decades of massacring the townsfolk. I think you're getting soft."

"I didn't change anything," Peter insisted. I wasn't buying it.

"Right." I tried to arch my eyebrow in that way of his that was always so effective. I was pretty sure I pulled it off this time.

"People don't change. Not really. The surface might shift or give way, but this, what's inside…" Peter poked me right in the middle of my chest with his forefinger. Somehow the conversation had twisted and turned, and suddenly Peter had an angry gleam in his eyes. "The guts—those never bend. They never break. Trying to change who you are for someone else causes nothing but pain."

"But you did," I argued, swatting away his finger. I wouldn't back down from him. "You changed. Today you took a look at yourself and decided that you'd rather kill a buck than a man. You thought about it—don't try to tell me you didn't—and how is that any different?"

"For your information it was a coyote, and it's completely superficial," Peter countered. "I may have gone for a stroll on the other side of the fence for an afternoon, but at the core I still want to sink my teeth into bloody flesh more than I want anything else in the world. That is not change. That is a temporary adjustment in my pool of victims."

"You think it doesn't matter?"

"I think it matters a great deal, but I do not give it undue weight." He shook his head, and it wasn't pity he looked at me with, but something that vaguely resembled sadness. "We're all killers, Bella. The difference is that I don't try to hide it behind morality."

"How do you choose?" I asked. I'd wondered for so long. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend his answer wasn't important to me, but there was no hope. I was past such denial. It mattered, it always had.

"My victims?" Peter reached out and passed his thumb over the scar on my wrist. "At first I went after the sick—the dying—but while that's fine in theory, the reality is quite different. They are not nourishing or satisfying, and the body count I racked up… Let's just say I gave Jasper a run for his money. You really don't want to hear about it."

I had no doubt he was right, and I nodded my head to agree.

"Now I just kill myself. Men, no family, distant friends. People no one will miss. Evil or just, I don't try to make those distinctions. It doesn't matter, and I'm in no position to judge the goodness of men. The worst of humanity hides in the risers, the shining stars rot away in the dirt. I kill because I must, because through some twist of fate I'm higher up on the food chain than they are. That's just the way it is."

"Don't forget your neighbors."

"I only did that twice," Peter argued. "And it wasn't on purpose. I only told you that to—"

"Scare me?" I supplied. "Test me?"

Peter frowned. "You make it sound horrible."

"Well, it wasn't nice."

"At the time I wasn't overly concerned with catering to your feelings."

"And now you are?" I asked.

Peter nodded. "I suppose you could say that."

I wrung my fingers together, wondering if I should ask. In the end, I couldn't convince myself not to. "What's that about?"

Peter shrugged, still staring straight ahead. It was probably for the best. It really was hard to take him seriously with those neon-orange eyes of his. "I like you."

When Peter said things like that, it made me obscenely nervous. "You like me how?"

Peter made that face of his that said he thought I had a few screws loose. "Are you really asking me that? I thought by now I'd made it painfully obvious."

I'd kind of been hoping he hadn't been talking about kissing me, though, after thinking about it for a moment, I realized I would have been upset if he hadn't. "I thought you said that was the biggest mistake of your life."

"No, I didn't," Peter countered, immediately understanding what I was talking about. "I said it was the stupidest thing I've ever done—and it was—but that doesn't mean I think it was a mistake."

"You know, it took me so long to figure it out, but I get it now. You put so much effort into making sure I see the worst side of you. You're always hiding the good parts. I wonder what happens when you stop trying so hard."

Peter shrugged. "Maybe you'll find out."

I thought that no matter what Peter tried to say, I was already starting to get a taste of it. Peter leaned his shoulder into mine for just a moment before pulling away, and I felt something stir inside me; something I was exclusive to me and Edward. It terrified me a little, but the scariest part was that I'd told myself so many times that first and foremost—before anything else—I had to figure myself out, and I finally felt like I had.

—

The second time Peter kissed me, it wasn't such a long drawn out affair. It was a Monday afternoon. I'd finished the portion of work I was able to do on one of his cases, and when he took the file on the way to his desk, he leaned in. It was completely out of the blue, and not at all what I expected on so many levels. Where before it had been something forceful—an action with a specific purpose—today his lips felt softer, more honest. I could only spare half a minute to be swept away by the unexpected caution and sincerity.

My hand shot out to grab hold of his arm and keep him from walking away entirely. Not that it would have worked if he hadn't wanted it to. "What was that for?"

He looked confused, but in a too obvious way. He was playing with me. "I wanted to."

"I thought we talked about this."

"We did." Peter shrugged. "And I told you I might have to do it again."

I narrowed my eyes at his too obvious enjoyment. "This isn't a good idea. We're not that sort of friends, Peter."

"We'll see." Peter shrugged and twisted his arm so he could wind his fingers just under my elbow. "I don't think I have enough information to make an accurate assessment, yet."

"I'm serious." He was obviously trying to wind me up. It really was too bad it was working. I had to figure out some way to make myself a less easy target.

"So am I." Peter stepped closer. "What's the big deal?"

I didn't even know where to begin. Peter took advantage of my silence to extract his arm from my hand and wander away. I didn't know what he was angling at with this, but I was sure I would have to step carefully. The last thing I needed was to get caught up in some bizarre experiment of Peter's. Especially if I was the subject.

"Who cares?" Peter asked. His breath tickled my ear.

"It kind of feels like I should."

"Why?"

I didn't have any answers to that question. I took two steps back and shook my head, but there was a bit of a smile struggling through, too. "Because I just can't take you seriously with day-glo orange eyes."

"That sounds an awful lot like later rather than never."

It almost felt like he was teasing me; playing to see how far he could push and bend me before I broke and started pushing back. He'd done it before, when I first met him. One of the first things I learned about Peter was that he would often say and do things just to see how I would react.

I could fight for as long as I breathed, but it wouldn't get me anywhere. After all my waffling and denial, all the time I spent running around Kansas, I hadn't gotten anywhere. I'd thought I was chasing after something I couldn't quite get a grip on, but in the end, I was running away, too—and I was so tired of running.

Something was happening, no matter how hard I tried to struggle against it, and it didn't matter if I spent another day or another month playing these games with Peter, because in the end, when I finally stopped, I was still going to be standing in the same place, asking myself the same questions.

This wasn't just a maybe. It was a choice, and given enough time I didn't think I could convince myself not to make it. I'd never been particularly good at dealing with these types of decisions, and it seemed as if I hadn't really gained any ability for it—but I could see that shortcoming now. I took a step closer, my body tense, and wondered if I'd made a bigger stride than I realized. There was no way to know for sure, but it felt like there was a hurdle behind me. In the end, that was all that mattered.

This wasn't like with Edward, or even with Jacob. I knew where Peter stood. Little, playful attempts to tease kisses compounded with direct answers was enough to ensure that even I couldn't misunderstand. It was up to me—and I found that I rather liked thinking of it that way.

It was the same question I'd asked myself weeks ago, pulled to the forefront of my mind. Now that I felt like I actually knew Peter, was I willing to think of him in that way? I thought that maybe I was, but that didn't mean I had to figure it out today. I could just drift. I could take my time to discover where this new perspective would lead me, and I wouldn't try to steer either way.

Peter kept a curious eye on me. "You look like you have something more to say."

"Just be quiet. Let me get this out."

Peter nodded.

"I don't know how to do this. I've never tried with anyone but Edward, and it's hard because things with him are really over, for good, and I'm still trying to be okay with that. I'm still working on putting together all those pieces of me that got scattered into us or got lost in the mix."

Peter sobered in an instant, and I could tell from the way his eyes bore into mine that he understood exactly what I meant. I had no definition for us; no way to explain what we were to each other—but it was impossible to move backward with him. Every step taken forward was permanent.

Peter assessed me carefully before replying. "He'll get over it, you know. No wound is so deep it can never heal, and like I said; it's not your place to take responsibility for him anymore." I ran my thumb over the impression of teeth carved into my wrist, considering his words. I didn't think I believed him. As if he knew exactly what I was thinking, Peter added, "Everything leaves a scar—but they're not indications of being destroyed. They mean you've recovered."

"Your scars," I said, immediately needing a moment to collect myself and regain my fortitude. "The ones that aren't marked on your skin—have you healed from those wounds?"

I expected Peter to refuse to continue the conversation, but he surprised me. "Some still itch."

I grew bolder. "From losing Charlotte?"

"Yes."

It wasn't so strange anymore, the way Peter's honesty fueled mine. "I couldn't place it before, but everything is clearer now. It just wasn't right. It was a fairytale. I inserted myself into this story and then watched it play out in front of me. I never participated, I wouldn't have been able to if I wanted."

"Do you still love him?" Peter asked, a subtle undercurrent woven into his question.

I answered with no misdirection. "Yes. I still love him. Do you still love her?"

Peter nodded. "I hate her, too, in some ways. So I don't know how you should read into it."

I didn't want to tell him that I hated Charlotte, too.

"I could have been happy with him, you know," I said. "If I had ignored what I was feeling and just pushed it down… I could have been ignorant and happy and lived the rest of my days with the man that I love."

"You still could. You have to know that he'd take you back."

"I guess, but it's kind of irrelevant. I can't go back to the way things were. I can't go back to being a spectator in my own life. There wasn't much of me in that relationship. I just didn't know it until I left." I felt brave when I gestured between us and added, "So, no. You and I, that's not really something I can think about, at least not now—but maybe later. When I've moved on; when I'm done."

A hint of a smile crossed Peter's face, and I wondered if that was all he'd really wanted to get out of me. If all he'd wanted to hear was maybe, in time, this course he'd decided on might pay off.

That was what it really boiled down to. All I needed was time. A week, a month, years—I didn't know how long. All I was sure of was that eventually I would be faced with a decision no one else could make for me, and I was okay with that. For once there was no impending sense of a time limit. There was no reason to rush where it came to Peter. After all, I didn't feel like if I didn't run hundreds of miles in the short span of time before my next birthday, all would be lost. In some ways, I thought a couple more years under my belt actually might help me in the long run. It would give me the chance to catch up.

It might be nothing, whatever this thing I felt for Peter was, but I also didn't have to figure it out any time soon. I may not have had much time, but _we_ did. For the first time since flaming hair tumbled through the sky and blood dripped in the snow, I felt something like hope.


	16. Chapter 16

**Soooo, hi. *waves* I'm sorry this took so, so, so, sooooooo long :-(**

**Big thanks to sweeneyanne for the beta, aerobee82 for the pre-reading, and yearprincess for looking it over as well :-)**** Also, I have crazy decongestant-brain, so the proof-reading didn't so much actually happen as it was considered for about 45 minutes and then deemed finished. 0.0 If that sentence doesn't make sense, just pretend it does, mmmkay?**

**Don't own Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 1****6**** - If I Could**

"Wake up."

I startled from sleep at harsh words bounding through my room and the sudden intensity of the light being flipped on. I closed my eyes and opened them again, trying to adjust to the brightness. "You have _got_ to stop doing this."

"I've been summoned," Peter said.

Immediately I was alert. I sat up and watched with wide eyes as Peter stormed through my room. He paused in front of my open closet before pulling out my suitcase. It took me a moment to remember I'd hidden my painting of the woods in there. When Peter wrenched open the top drawer of my dresser my attention refocused. "Summoned by whom?"

"You know who." He sounded vaguely irritated that he had to take the time to explain, but one look at the cross set to his frown told me that he wasn't so much annoyed with my questions as he was about the answers he'd have to give.

I was up and out of bed in a flash.

"You said I'd be safe here!" The panic rising in my gut made my voice high, scratchy. This couldn't be happening. I wasn't ready. Before I knew it, I was helping Peter throw clothes in my suitcase. I'd never get used to the intensity of my fight or flight instinct—after all, it was something I'd only recently developed. In some ways I missed the time when instead of worrying about myself, I'd throw myself in front of everyone else, even if it was the worst thing to do in the end.

"You are. They're not coming for you," Peter said. He sounded so sure. "They're here for me."

"Why?"

"I assume they want me to find you." Peter snapped his teeth together and let out a long exhale through flared nostrils. I threw some socks on top of the pile of clothes in my suitcase and Peter zipped it shut. When he spoke again, it was with a softer tone, but not by much. "They can't locate you through their normal means. That leaves me. There is no other reason."

"What's going to happen?"

"I don't know. I'm no fortune-teller. What we are going to do, however, is get you out of here. Once they're gone, we'll regroup." Peter was already half-way to the living room before started following. I hadn't felt my heart hammer like this in months, and along with that memory, came the phantom smell of ashes.

"You knew this would happen." I spat the words at him, desperate for the accusation to do something—anything—to mitigate this disaster, but in the end that's all they were; words.

Peter was composed as ever. "Of course. Didn't you?"

I wanted to throw more digs at him, but this wasn't the time to be arguing. I was dangerously close to a complete meltdown, and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. This was the absolute last thing I wanted to happen.

"What about my stuff? Oh, God, they'll smell me in the house!"

"They're not coming here," Peter said, still being infuriatingly calm. He turned back to grab my arm so he could guide me toward the front door. It may as well have been some hellish nightmare I was caught in. "I'm going to them. Go west as far as you can go. Drive for a day and stop. I'll come find you. If you don't hear from me in another two, keep going. If you hit the ocean, get on a boat."

The reality of the situation clicked into place the moment I set foot outside. I planted my feet on the front stoop and buried my terror, even if it was only for a moment. "You said that if they asked, you'd find me a newborn."

"And I will, but there has to be a chase."

I wasn't sure how I stopped myself from vomiting all over him.

"Hey, hey." Peter dropped my suitcase and grabbed my shoulders, squeezing just hard enough to jar me back to the problem at hand. "Save the panicking for later. Right now we have a problem with an easy solution. Just take it one step at a time."

"How could you say anything about this is easy?"

For once, Peter didn't have a retort. I stepped around him and walked to the car. The trunk popped open, and I stood, waiting until I felt the cool metal of keys press into my palm. I curled my fingers into a fist to keep from dropping them. I'd known this was coming, but I hadn't ever expected it to feel like this.

Peter reached around me to open the car door, and leaned down to speak quietly in my ear. It was an intimate gesture, one that sent a clear message; what he had to say was only for me. "If I believed that I could change—that I could alter my core and become a better man, I'd do it. I'd rip myself into pieces and reassemble all those shreds — and if I could stop what's happening here, I would, but I can't."

"I don't expect that of you," I said after a moment filled with a swelling heart and twisted stomach-ache. No one had ever expressed something like that to me before.

"I know, but I thought I should tell you anyway."

I was starting to understand that sentiment a lot more, lately. There were some things that just had to be said—whether or not they were understood or appreciated—because it was the only way to expel them, to make them real. If I had learned that lesson back in Forks, I could have saved myself so much grief.

"You'll find me?" I asked as I relented and climbed into the car. I fumbled the keys twice.

Peter leaned through the open window and started the car for me. His mouth an inch from my ear, he whispered, "I will find you. When it is safe."

"How will you know?" I asked, turning my head as he pulled back. Suddenly the fading orange of his eyes didn't send laughter running up my spine.

"I'll know. Remember. Safe." He pressed a card into my hand. "Drive."

I shoved the card in my pocket without looking at it, shifted the car to reverse, and fled. It was something that certainly got easier with repetition. I didn't know what to do, so I followed Peter's instructions to the letter. I merged into west-bound traffic, and floored it. I couldn't make myself stop until I crossed the border into Colorado and four drive-through coffees became the shadow chasing me. It was impossible to catch my breath, though I spent half an hour idling in the parking lot of a rest stop trying.

The only thing that helped was to call Sheila and tell her I had to go out of town and not to worry. It tethered me, and acted as a reminder that there was someone out there who wasn't my family and wasn't a vampire who would care if I up and disappeared.

I rested my forehead against the steering wheel and sucked in a breath through my teeth. The truth of the matter was that it was not unusual this was happening—that I was on the run from psychotic vampires—again. This cycle would continue, over and over, until the day I appeased the Volturi's demands. It was my decisions that caused this; my choice to not marry Edward and stay human. It was my realization that growing up could not simply be forced through will alone and subsequent actions that lead me here, and once I reminded myself of that it was easier to straighten up and start thinking about what I was going to do next.

By the time I pulled back onto the highway, traffic had picked up. I never thought I'd manage to feel claustrophobic going seventy-five miles an hour down the highway.

It wasn't horribly difficult to stay calm, or at least as close to calm as I could get, but still my heart pounded away in my chest as the miles ticked by on the odometer and all my whirring thoughts eventually settled on the same subject. I had to decide who all I was running away from; if I was going to make Peter catch me, or if I was going to walk back to him with my head held high. Really, it wasn't much of a question. I may have been delaying the inevitable for as long as possible, but still, at the end of the day, I wanted to pull the trigger. No matter how difficult the circumstances, I still wanted this to happen on my terms.

I supposed in order for that to happen, I had to accept that there was little I could control, and remember not to let the things I could fall by the wayside. The sun settled into view and I flipped the visor down, thankful for the small distraction—for the light.

Twelve hours alone in the car was starting to feel like sensory deprivation. I couldn't take it much longer.

I made a choice to stay with Peter, just like I'd decided to leave Forks. And the same as back then, I wouldn't do him the injustice of being fickle. There may have been little between us, just a spark—a tease of what could be—but I had to see it through. I deserved to know what might be, because for all of Peter's talk about how people and vampires don't change, not really, he'd admitted just the opposite to me. He'd said he wanted it. That if he believed he could change, he would—and who was he to decide there was any distinction? Who was he to say that change wasn't inherent, even in him?

My thoughts ran through the cycle countless times as I kept my foot steady and started glancing at the exit ramps with longing. I counted the mile markers and wondered just how far was far enough; I didn't think I'd ever get there. It felt like I'd been running for two years, and the finish line was always just out of sight.

Two more ramps went by before I shifted into the right lane and took the third. I'd never be able to cover enough distance; if they were going to catch me, they'd do just as well in Grand Junction as they would in the middle of the Pacific.

I checked into a room on the second floor of the first motel I saw a sign for. It was one of those places where the rooms open to a walkway wrapped around the building, and I found myself leaning against the railing, staring out over the parking lot, tracing the ground all the way out to the horizon. I couldn't quite wrap my head around it—the way so much had changed, but still, here I was, running from vampires and hiding in hotels so far from home.

Nostalgia was cut short by the sound of ringing in my pocket, and the moment I caught sight of the name flashing on the screen I darted for my door and flung my suitcase inside. It was hard to breathe, hard to swallow; I wasn't sure I'd be able to speak if I tried. The call went to voicemail and with a lack of subtlety impossible to comprehend everything that had happened since my rude awakening became so real the Volturi might as well have been lined up in front of me.

I couldn't think of any other reason he'd call. When the phone clenched in my fist started ringing again, I answered before panic could set in any further.

"Edward?"

"Are you okay? Where are you?" Edward demanded in place of any sort of greeting.

I leaned against the door just as my knees buckled, and slid to the floor. Now that I wasn't speeding down the highway it was all crashing in on me. Edward worried was something I dealt with on a near day to day basis when I lived in Forks. Knowing that his concern was valid was the last straw.

My voice cracked. "I need help."

* * *

I'd never expected to find myself sitting on the edge of a queen sized bed, watching Edward pace across a seedy motel two miles off the highway. The individual components had all crossed my mind at one time or another—Edward and a bed, Edward distressed, hiding in cheap motels—but they'd never combined like this into one event.

It was surreal, like I finally had all these things I used to dream about in the palm of my hand, and even if they weren't so twisted and warped, I didn't want them anymore.

"We shouldn't stay here," Edward said, but I shook my head.

We'd agreed that Edward would meet me in Grand Junction, and from the moment he arrived we'd been in a stand-off over this point. Edward wanted to leave immediately; to get on a plane and head for somewhere the Volturi couldn't reach. I refused.

"He said to give him two days. That he'd find me when it's safe." My voice was quiet and monotone; dead. Edward obviously didn't know how to deal with it, but then again, he hadn't ever seen me on the run before. The closest he'd come was camping out in the mountains, but even then, he'd managed to wind up fighting.

Edward grumbled. "Jasper is playing this far too close to the vest."

I picked at a thread coming loose from the bedspread. "That's just the way they are. They know what they're doing."

"No, Alice is even worse." Edward shook his head and grumbled. "'When it's safe.' What does that even mean?"

I wasn't really sure. I didn't think we were being followed, surely Edward would know if we were. There had to be something I was missing. Peter said he'd know. My head jerked up, and I examined Edward a little closer. "How did you know I was in trouble?"

Edward finally stopped pacing. "Jasper told me the Volturi had sprung into action, that they're looking for you. He tried to convince me I should hide, but how could I?" Edward's head fell and he reached a hand up fiddle with the hair at his nape. "How could I run away when you're in danger?"

I had a bad feeling that this was exactly what Jasper had been trying to prevent. If Edward had been told to hide, that meant the Volturi were probably looking for him, too. After all, they'd expect him to be with me. Peter was going to be so pissed.

"You should go," I said, sounding far surer than I was. "You should have listened to Jasper."

"I will not leave you defenceless. Jasper is out of his mind if he thinks I'm going to go along with his ridiculous plan of sending you off on your own."

"Jasper didn't send me here." I didn't bother explaining, or trying to argue with him. Once Edward got something like this in his head, there was no hope in trying to convince him otherwise, and Jasper had obviously left out some key details when explaining the situation. Instead, I reached into my pocket for the card Peter had given me. If I couldn't do anything about Edward, then maybe I could figure out what Peter had meant when he gave it to me. It was a debit card; one of the ones that only worked at an ATM. I was sure that he'd meant for me to use it.

"Who did send you here, then?" Edward asked, looking unhappier by the minute.

"A friend."

Edward took an audible breath. "I thought we weren't going to lie to each other anymore."

I glanced up and let out a sigh. "I don't know what to tell you."

"What is that?" Edward asked, nodding toward my hands.

Thankful he was letting the subject drop I sighed and held the card up so he could see. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"It looks like a bank card."

"No," I muttered. "It's a message."

If I hadn't been such a mess of conflicting emotions, I would have laughed at the sight of Edward rolling his eyes. "You sound just like Jasper."

I dropped my head into my free hand, exhausted by that statement and all the implications of it that Edward couldn't possibly know he was making.

For the second time in ten minutes, Edward did something completely unprecedented and dropped a subject he was curious about. "Tell me about your life. What have you been doing?"

I absolutely was not going to tell Edward that I'd basically been trying on hobbies like clothes and working as an apprentice bounty hunter. "This and that. We were in Kansas, the weather was really nice. I learned to play blackjack."

"Emmett will be pleased."

"Only until I hit him in the face with a two-by-four for putting me up to riding that damn roller-coaster."

Edward laughed, and for just a moment, everything was the same as it had ever been. "You rode a roller-coaster?"

"Not really." I groaned. "It was more of a spinning, upside-down death trap."

"And how was that?"

"Awful." I felt queasy just thinking about it. "I threw up. Peter still teases me about it."

I realized my slip two whole seconds before Edward.

"I was wondering when you'd finally mention him."

The pounding in my chest was irrational and unwarranted, but still I counted the beats, and waited for the fallout. It didn't come. "You knew."

"Only because Jasper let his guard down in his haste to get me away from the others. Honestly, I can't believe he was so sloppy to come in person. He put a lot of effort into making sure I never knew where you were, or who you were with."

"It's okay, Edward." I rushed to explain. "It was fine. A little rough at first, but we learned to get along. I was _fine._"

"You and Jasper sure do have funny definitions of 'fine'."

In the space of time it took me to draw enough breath to speak, I was livid. Edward's misuse of that term was near criminal. "Says the man who decapitated a woman right in front of me and then used that same word."

Edward ran his hand through his hair again and came to sit next to me. I felt him take a deep breath, and glanced out of the corner of my eye to see him staring at the floor. I almost felt bad for bringing it up. Almost.

"I was trying to be strong," Edward said, his voice quiet, "so it would be easier for you to deal with."

"Well, it didn't work."

"I know that now. I've learned a lot since you left."

"Yeah." I forced myself to breathe and nodded. "Me, too."

"I'm not happy that you were put into an uncomfortable position like this, or that I was kept so far out of the loop."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Jasper has some explaining to do to me as well."

Edward studied me for a moment before cracking a smile. "You're different now. I think I'd like to see you demanding those explanations."

I hung my head and muttered, "A lot of things are different now."

"Oh?" Edward sobered. "Like what?"

I felt guilty in the way that I knew I probably should, to some extent, but didn't. This middle ground I'd found myself clinging to ever since leaving Forks wasn't good for me, and it wasn't fair to anyone. It was wrong to leave Edward hanging, and worse to keep him ignorant of where he stood. In the end, I decided to just come out and say it. "I met someone."

"And by someone, you mean Peter," Edward quickly deduced.

I kind of wished I could lie to him about it.

"Have you decided then?" Edward asked.

I had to look away when I told him. "Yes, I've decided."

He didn't need me to say anything else. "You're happy with him?"

"That is…" I wasn't sure how to express my feelings. In the end, I took a page from Peter's book. "I'm content, and once all of this is over I think we could get to happy. That seems to be where it's going."

"That's all I want for you," Edward said. "I swear to you, there aren't any strings attached—but really, Bella? _Peter?_"

"I don't know how to explain it," I said lamely. It was immensely frustrating, this inability to put into words what felt so vivid. "He… he steadies me. He doesn't let me wallow in meaningless guilt or demand support when I don't need it. He makes me feel okay with myself, flaws and all—and when it gets to be too much to take, he shows me that he's got scars, too."

Edward didn't reply, and after an uncomfortable span I added, "I'm not really sure what it is, but there is something, and I couldn't just not tell you."

"I hate that he sounds good for you."

"He is."

"Do you love him?" Edward asked. "The way you loved me?"

That was a matter that needed immediate deflection. "I could never love anyone like I love you. The way I feel about you—there is nothing that could ever compare."

"But you do love him," Edward said. He sounded so sure.

It was a question I was in no way ready to consider. "I really don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Alright." Edward agreed.

I hadn't understood just how deep Edward's love went, and realizing it now was both a relief and daunting. I hadn't ever comprehended that it was possible for him to be happy just because I was—but it was easy to accept, and even easier to reciprocate. In many ways I believed that this foundation we'd built out of the rubble of our relationship was far better than anything we'd stood on before.

In the spirit of covering all the topics that required some getting used to, I said, "Tell me about the girl."

The last thing I thought Edward would do was laugh. "You mean the one I told you about?"

"Yeah. How was your date?"

"Catastrophic." Edward paused. "And I'm still not sure it was actually a date. I think Rosalie and Emmett were toying with me. They're the ones who tricked me into it in the first place."

"It couldn't have been that bad."

"It was. 'Gentlemanly to the point of insulting' is the exact phrasing she used."

"Ouch."

"It's been pointed out to me that maybe I am a little old-fashioned." Edward shook his head with a rueful smile. "I've been thinking that I should make an effort to get up with the times—to learn other ways to be respectful and demonstrate my feelings—and then, maybe, I'll start looking again."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that."

Edward leaned his forehead to mine for a couple of seconds before pulling away with a smile. "Knowing you, loving you… being without you, I've learned a lot. In you I've found that it's alright to have faults and to let them show, that there are many ways to be strong."

It was the most touching thing Edward had ever said to me. I considered my next words carefully. "That's the sort of thing that makes me happy. I like hearing that you're not giving up, that maybe leaving was something that was best for both of us, and not just me."

"It's never going to be like it was again, is it?"

I looked away from Edward, through the window. Even after all this time it was difficult to admit that he was right; that it was over. It hadn't felt concrete until that moment. I turned the ATM card over in my hand again. "It's better this way."

Edward didn't have any response.

"I'm going to go for a walk."

Edward looked like he wanted to protest, but backed down at the look on my face. I'd gotten somewhat used to coming and going whenever I saw fit, and I wasn't about to give that up.

I headed to the ATM on auto-pilot, confident that I'd figured out this puzzle. Maybe Peter just meant for me to swipe it—it'd be more than enough for him to get an address—but another thought was crawling through my head. Peter didn't need a bank alert to find me.

I stared at the flashing lights, the keypad, and then tried the only thing I could think of.

7233. Safe.

I wasn't surprised that it worked. After so long I'd gotten a feel for how Peter operated.

I did a balance inquiry, ready to be irritated with whatever obnoxious sum came out of the machine, but when the receipt printed out I found that Peter had been quite reasonable. Just a few hundred dollars, and in an instant I understood what Peter meant to say with this gesture.

He was saying that I could leave. I could run off with Edward and try to find my happy ending; we could start over now that I'd gotten my head on straight and had a better understanding of the world around me, if that's what I wanted. Peter would be right on our heels, waiting to find me newborn and red-eyed, so he could say that I'd held up my end of the bargain.

He was saying that this was the time to make my choice.

I withdrew forty dollars, just in case whatever alert Peter had set up was tied to the balance and not access, and also because I wanted him to see that I had no intention of pulling all the money and running off without him. Forty dollars was a reasonable amount. Spending money. A tease that said 'come and get me'. Or maybe I was reading too much into it again.

I climbed the stairs back to the second floor, my hand skimming over the railing, and decided that this time I'd probably gotten Peter's intention right.

"Are you alright?" Edward asked as the door clicked shut behind me.

"I will be."


	17. Chapter 17

**Much thanks to sweeneyanne for the beta and aerobee82 for the usual pre-reading insano-ftldhasthenerves-prereading. Also, thanks to LilHB for appeasing my crazy by pre-reading as well. Flove you ALL!**

**And thank you to everyone who reviewed even though I went MIA for a bit. I didn't get a chance to thank everyone personally, but I really did appreciate it.**

**Side Note: Have we all heard the new Tegan and Sara? Isn't Now I'm All Messed Up just the greatest thing ever? *goes all googly eyed and listens to it again***

**Don't own.**

* * *

**Chapter 17 - Bury Me**

To say Peter was furious to find Edward sitting at the small table tucked into the corner of my motel room was putting it mildly.

"What are you doing here?" Peter raged the moment I opened the door to him, looking for all intents and purposes, ready to rip Edward's head clean off. I wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't. He stormed into the room and rattled the generic painting hung across the room with the force of his boot kicking the door closed. "What sort of an idiot are you? The point was to keep you two _separated_."

I'd been ready for his anger—what I wasn't ready for was the sight of crimson shining from his eyes. I'd kind of gotten used to the orange. It made sense; Peter couldn't meet with any agent of the Volturi with evidence of his brief foray into another diet so clearly on his face. I wasn't sure how I felt about it, but it was less of an issue than I would have thought six months ago.

"If Bella is in danger, then the only place I am willing to be is with her."

Peter shook his head and snarled. "Mere _luck_ is the only reason you are still alive. Or have you forgotten about Demetri?"

Edward argued, "If Demetri was searching for me, Jasper would have been a lot more upfront when he suggested I start running."

I wasn't about to let the two of them get into an actual argument over this—it'd be days before either of them would concede, if ever. I crossed the room to stand between them and faced Peter. "What happened?"

Peter shook his head. For a split second I caught a spark of pity in his eyes. It sent fury racing through me. "Don't look at me like that."

Peter set his jaw and nodded. "You're out of time."

"How long before they expect you to find me?" I asked after a moment, unwilling to draw the conversation out any longer than necessary. We both knew this was where all this talking was headed.

"A week, if you're lucky. I'm not the only one looking." Peter jerked his head toward Edward. "Although, to be fair, the rest are only looking for him. If they can't find him, they'll use you as bait."

Edward let out an audible breath behind me.

"They are not happy. I've been offered a lot of money to take care of you."

"What's the order?" Edward asked, far more comfortable with this type of planning than I was.

Peter's face hardened into something terrifying. "Dead or alive."

"They asked you to kill her?!" It was incredibly startling to see Edward lose his cool so quick.

Peter didn't even flinch. "She must serve as an example of what happens to those who defy them. Aro would prefer her changed, living in servitude—but if it proves to be difficult, I'm to kill her. If you stand in my way, I'm to make it particularly memorable."

"There's something else," Edward said. He narrowed his eyes at Peter. "What aren't you telling us?"

"We'll talk about it when Jasper gets here."

"We'll talk about it now."

Peter sneered. "Sure, now that you've already fucked up half the contingencies we had to keep the two of you breathing, you want to discuss it."

"Just spit it out, Peter." I was a little impressed with myself for managing to growl out the demand so forcefully.

Peter glanced at me before raising his chin toward Edward. "It's worse than we thought. They won't be satisfied with Bella's death. You had to have known this might be the case. Your head, your coven, they're on the line, too."

"Aro wouldn't order my execution," Edward said. I supposed his arrogance was warranted, after all, Aro had made his invitation toward Edward and Alice clear—but still, it bothered me. Some insecurities would never disappear it seemed, and Edward's position firmly above me was something permanent.

"No, but he _would_ destroy everyone you care about, one by one, to make you compliant. They'll go after those you love, and they're starting with Bella. This order, it's only the beginning. In the end it's not Bella who has flouted their authority. It's you. They may not care if she dies, but you are to be captured. Alive."

I'd never thought that the Volturi would consider Edward to be the guilty party. My legs gave out from under me and I sank to the creaky motel mattress. It made so much sense. I'd understood that to them I was basically nothing. I was human. Lately I'd even come to terms with just how little say I had in how my future would play out. The change on the horizon would come and I was powerless to stop it, but I hadn't put all the pieces together. I hadn't realized that my ineffectualness meant the blame would fall on someone else. I hadn't once thought that Edward would be the one to hang for my knowledge of the supernatural world, regardless of whether or not I was punished, too.

"How do you know all of this?" I asked with an unnecessary force. I wasn't about to let them carry on this conversation over my head, as if I wasn't even here.

"I have connections in the guard."

"Who?"

Peter shook his head. "Plausible deniability."

I muttered. "You just _love_ to say that, don't you?"

Peter ignored my little jab in favor of issuing his own to Edward. "You should keep as far away from this fight as you can. Leave the Volturi to those with experience handling them."

Edward growled. "I swore I would do everything within my power to protect Bella, to keep my family safe. There is nothing you can say that would convince me to walk away."

"Just keep in mind," Peter said as he took a threatening step toward Edward. Even I flinched. "I only promised to keep _her_ out of their clutches. Not you."

Edward glared right back, and I watched with rapt attention as Edward tried to pull something useful out of Peter's head. I was betting he wouldn't be able to. Nearly five minutes went by before I'd had enough.

"As amusing as this is, maybe we should get back to the issue at hand?" I tried to come off as sarcastic, but mostly I sounded afraid.

"That's probably best." Peter turned toward me, and his angry stance relaxed. "You need to make a decision now."

Terror wound its fingers in an unforgivable vice around my heart. My answer came before I had adequate time to think through it, but it was the truth. I used to have the illusion of months. Now I had days, hours. There would never be enough time to do all I wanted to, and now there might not be enough time to do the one thing I'd promised I would. I'd known it on some level for a long time now. I couldn't leave Charlie blindsided. The silly thought floated through my head that I never even got to buy a dress. "I can't do it."

Edward's reaction was noticeable, so I knew he hadn't been expecting my response. He looked pleased, but worried; no doubt sifting through his vast collection of knowledge trying to figure out how to pull this off without changing me. I wasn't surprised; Edward had always been very clear about his ideal version of my future.

What did surprise me was Peter. I'd expected him to be angry; to growl in my face and tell me I knew nothing about the world and how it worked, and then force me through all the logistics to make sure I understood exactly what it was I was doing. Peter did none of this. He stared at me for an uncomfortable minute and then crouched to my level. My vision fixed itself right above the television to the right, and he tilted his head until I gave up trying to avoid his stare.

"Is this the kind of thing that you can't do on your own, so you need me to? Or are you refusing?"

This was probably a subject best talked about when we were alone, but I couldn't make myself brush it to the side for later. A tear spilled down my cheek as shame bloomed in my chest. It was bittersweet to finally find some of the perspective I'd been hunting; that it wasn't being human that made me weak, it was this constant indecision I couldn't escape. Even after all this time, after so many second and third chances, I still couldn't resign myself to the fate I'd once chased after. "I refuse. I'm not ready. There are still things I have to do."

"Do you know what you are asking of me?" Peter's face was unreadable. His eyes bore into mine with more intensity than I ever imagined could exist. He didn't look taken aback at all; maybe he'd seen it coming.

"I understand." And I did. I knew exactly what I was asking him to do, and I knew that it was selfish and unfair.

"Okay," Peter said. "We'll come up with something."

"I'm so sorry."

Peter shook his head, and for a moment I caught something raw lingering in his eyes. I blinked, and it was gone. "Why should you be sorry?"

I whispered, "This is all my fault."

"How? How in the hell could any of this be your fault?"

"I should have just done what they wanted in the first place. It would have been easier on everyone. I should have held up my end of the bargain."

"_Your_ end?"

I nodded. Peter looked confused, and then anger started bleeding in.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Now it all makes _perfect_ sense." Peter grabbed my chin and tilted my head up to look him in the eye again. "_You_ did not make a deal with them. Edward did. He is the one who didn't hold up his end of the agreement. _He_ is the one who will not be gifted a second chance. Not you. Killing you is Edward's punishment."

"What are you talking about?"

I had seen Peter angry. I'd seen him vicious. I'd never seen him like this. A feral growl ripped its way through the space between us, and I realized that I hadn't ever heard that from him, either. In the blink of an eye he turned on Edward. "How dare you not explain this to her!"

Edward addressed his reply to me. "I didn't want you to worry."

"You are such an idiot." Peter seethed. "What good does protecting her do when hiding the truth does nothing but place all the weight on her shoulders? Did you think that because you would be the one to bear the consequences, she wouldn't suffer, too?"

I wasn't surprised that Edward snapped, even though I'd never imagined it could happen before. Peter could get under anyone's skin if he put his mind to it. "All I have ever wanted was to spare her the nightmare you are so willing to subject her to!"

"Stop it." I couldn't take any more of this. "Please, just stop it."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Peter raged. What I didn't understand was how he wasn't.

"Because _someone_," I gave him a pointed look, "taught me to focus on what I can change instead of fixating on what I can't." It was immensely pleasurable to throw Peter's own advice right back at him.

Peter looked stunned but recovered quickly. "Right. Okay. We're going to need Jasper." He jerked to a stop and addressed Edward. "And you need to give us some time to discuss things."

Edward stood his ground. "No."

"_Get out._"

Edward opened his mouth to argue and I scrambled to my feet before he could say something to drive the tension even higher. "It's okay. Just give us some time to talk, alright?"

Edward looked like he wanted to put up a fight, but in the end all it took was another nod from me to see him out of my room. The second the door swung closed behind him, Peter rolled his shoulders and started pacing with all the subtlety of a caged lion.

Peter stalked back and forth across the small room, his movements so rapid I started to get dizzy. This was absurd. "You're going to wear a hole in the carpet."

Peter didn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking."

"Will you just calm down?"

"I do not want to be calm," Peter snapped. "I want to be very, very tense."

"You're not helping anyone acting like this." I rolled my eyes, crossed my arms, and fixed him with the most withering stare I could come up with. It didn't do any good.

"I don't care."

"Oh, for crying out loud." There was only one thing I could think of that could possibly make Peter stop acting like a crazed vampire out for blood. I marched forward, grabbed both sides of his face, and kissed him. The moment he froze I pulled back. There was no containing my amusement at the look on his face.

It only took him a few seconds to regain his composure. "You must be joking."

"I'm sorry," I said, sarcasm rampant in my tone. "I thought that was how we got each other to stop acting like lunatics."

"Hilarious."

I took two steps back and fidgeted for a moment before shoving my hands in my pockets. I supposed I should have felt more self-conscious, but kissing Peter was low on my list of things to worry about.

Peter took a long breath, noticeably calmer. "You need to understand that these measures we're discussing are not because of anything you have or have not done. To them, you are a pawn—a casualty of the power struggle they've been waging with Edward and the Cullens. You are not responsible for what happens."

"It really doesn't feel that way."

"It never does." Peter turned to stare at the door. "I don't like him, and I don't like that he is here."

"I figured."

"He can't follow directions," Peter added, as if he felt the need to justify his displeasure.

"This has nothing to do with me?" I asked, watching him carefully, trying to get an idea of how he felt.

"Of course not."

I frowned. I wasn't exactly surprised or displeased—I didn't want Edward and Peter arguing about _anything_—but it would have been nice if Peter could at least give me something.

"Don't make that face." Peter rolled his eyes and started pacing again. "I know where you and I stand. Why would I worry over it?"

I supposed when he put it like that, it was a better reaction that I'd hoped for. A bit of a smile broke loose, and I asked, "So, Alice is coming?"

Peter scowled, just like I knew he would. "Yes. She's probably what's slowing Jasper down."

I couldn't decide if putting Peter and Alice in the same city was going to be amusing enough to dispel some of the tension, or if it would just be another powder keg thrown on an open flame. I hoped for the former; I could use some funny.

"Are you sure about this?" Peter asked with an abrupt change in demeanor. "It's going to come to a fight either way, so don't assume your decision is a factor there, but are you certain this is the path you want to take?"

He didn't seem to care one way or another. It was probably the only thing that could have possibly made me feel better. "I'm sure."

"May I ask why?" Peter didn't look like he wanted to judge my reasoning; he simply looked curious.

Instead of answering his question, I asked one of my own. "You knew I'd never be ready, didn't you? I can't do this until I say goodbye, and I can't say goodbye until I absolutely have to."

Peter remained as steady as ever. "It's not really the type of thing that can be explained—or should be trivialized by something as weak as words."

"I promised my dad I would come home. I told him that if I was faced with a choice between doing something stupid and coming back, I'd come back. This isn't what he thought of when he asked, but it is what he meant. I… I can't break that promise." I squashed the latest round of tears begging to be set loose and confessed, "I keep thinking I should just run for Forks now. This might be my last chance."

"You can't go see your father," Peter insisted. "You're on the hook. The chase has begun. As soon as Aro realizes we're going after him, hell is going to rain down. If you go back home, you'll only lead them straight to his door."

My brain refused to process his argument. "But I could go now, before they start looking."

"We don't have _time_. They're looking for Edward, and that means they're looking in Forks. I didn't think they'd go after both of you at the same time. I assumed I'd be the only factor, but with the others searching for Edward…" Peter left the rest unsaid.

I couldn't believe I'd ever characterized what I felt after Edward left me as heartbreak. This was a hundred times worse. This obscene mix of lost, trapped, and out of control with every word I'd given Charlie hanging on the line—this was real heartbreak. I couldn't stand it. "I promised him."

Peter crouched to my level and swiped the hair out of my face. "I know, but you can't go to him now. It's just not possible."

"I've spent half my life lying to him." I didn't say it for any other reason than to give this one deep, aching regret of mine a voice. I'd spent so long deceiving Charlie—for his safety, for his own good, to avoid the things I wasn't mature enough to deal with properly—and here I was, about to do it again.

"That is the burden of the choices you've made," Peter said, simply, no judgement.

I couldn't think of anything to say. All I wanted was to curl up under the blankets and sleep this whole mess away. "This sucks."

"To be the one who has to decide is difficult," Peter said, echoing a conversation long past. I supposed it was his way of agreeing with me.

"I'm going home." I was determined to the point of insanity. There wasn't any other option. "I _will_ make it through this alive, and I will go home to see my dad. Everything that comes after is after."

Peter nodded and tilted his head a little to the left as he thought. For once, I saw it coming.

The third time Peter kissed me was in a motel, just off the highway. His thumbs brushed my cheeks and his lips were soft. It was salty and tender, and it was real. The curve of his lips against mine for that brief moment said more than either of us could have expressed with our voices.

"I'm not acting like a lunatic." Except that maybe I was, a little, but he understood why.

Peter's hands lingered before he moved to sit next to me. "You know that's not the only reason."

"What am I supposed to do?" I didn't care that I was begging him for a solution.

"You survive."

"What if we can't pull it off?" I wasn't sure I even wanted to know.

Of course, Peter told me anyway. "Then I guess I'll have to kill you."

"That's not funny."

"No, it's not," he agreed after a moment. "No one to hold your hand and pretend it's all going to be okay this time. You sure you can handle this?"

I pressed my lips together and considered my answer. "No, I'm not. But I will."

He allowed half of a smile to cross his face in approval.

I found myself repeating Edward's sentiment. "It's never going to be the same again, is it?"

"What's so bad about that?"

I thought about it for a moment before deciding. "Nothing."

"Do you want to call him?" Peter asked. "Your father? You may not be able to see him, but that doesn't mean you can't talk to him for a bit."

I rested my elbows against my knees and folded my hands together, unsure of how to express my feelings on the proposal. "How do I tell him goodbye without letting him know something is wrong?"

"You don't," Peter said. "You lie. You break your heart to keep his whole for a little while longer. That's all you can do for him now."

Sometimes I really hated Peter's refusal to soften blows, but this wasn't the time for coddling and we both knew it. Besides, when had Peter ever coddled?

I had to tell Charlie something, it didn't matter what it was. I'd made up my mind long ago to be honest with him when I could, and whatever desperate, crazy plan we came up with, I couldn't stand the thought of losing my last chance to talk to him. I needed to know he was okay before I flipped the bird at the Volturi and waited to see if I would make it out alive.

"I wish you weren't right so often." I grumbled, but I was teasing a little bit, too. Peter cracked a smile, and the tension eased. It took nearly a minute of concentrating on nothing but my lungs, but it was less time than I thought I'd need to remember how to breathe. "Some day I'm going to teach you about the fine art of sugarcoating."

Peter got a look on his face that I remembered from rare occasions back when we met; some crazy combination of curious and baffled. He pulled himself together within seconds. "Teach all you want, but I know you don't need such nonsense. You're not that weak."

I wondered if it was kind of messed up that I took it as the most genuine and meaningful compliment I'd ever been given.

Peter didn't give me time to respond. "Now or later?"

"I'm thinking now." I stood and allowed myself a few deep breaths. This wasn't the time to focus on anyone other than Charlie. "Can't say 'later' forever, right?"

"Do you want me to go?" Peter asked, in a rare showing of blatant consideration.

"Where to?"

"Outside."

I found his answer to be more amusing than it should have been. "Where you'll still be listening?"

Peter didn't argue the point. "You would have the illusion of privacy, and no one watching you."

"Stay." I nearly dropped my phone the moment it came out of my pocket. "I'm sick of illusions."

Peter nodded, not looking entirely convinced, and stood to lean against the wall near the door. I tried for a smile as I dialed.

Peter angled his ear toward me when Charlie answered on the third ring. I hadn't realized Peter really didn't know anything about Charlie other that he liked to fish and that he was my father. It made me nervous enough that the dread needling me for two days had to take a backseat.

I kept an eye on him all throughout the greetings and pleasantries, even though he gave nothing away other than undisguised curiosity.

"What's going on, Bella?"

My attention snapped back to Charlie. "Not much. I just wanted to call. What's been going on in Forks?" If Charlie didn't suspect something was wrong before, he certainly did after I asked that.

The abridged version of events Charlie gave me was more than I expected from him, but the quick run-down settled me enough to broach the topic we'd been avoiding ever since I left. I wasn't sure why I wanted to ask; only that I might not get another chance to, and that made me impatient. "What about Jacob? Is he home yet?"

"No." Charlie answered carefully. "But Billy's been talking to him. Says he's doing alright."

"Good." It was an unexpected source of relief.

"Anything new going on with you?" Charlie asked.

The sudden, violent revelation that even where it came to Peter, I could hardly tell Charlie anything seared through me. Sometimes it was so easy to forget who—_what_—Peter really was. I sat, paused, staring blankly ahead. Not so long ago I'd expended a ridiculous amount of effort figuring Peter out and only mildly succeeded—but I knew now. Peter only used to be human, but through sheer force of will had rendered that loss irrelevant.

Edward's quiet certainty that my feelings for Peter were greater than I was able to admit suddenly took on a whole new meaning. Whatever this thing I felt for Peter was, I was sure it was the kind of thing I should tell Charlie about, if only because it was the only thing I _could_ tell him.

"I met someone," I said carefully. Across the room, Peter stifled a chuckle. Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer to give me some space; this was embarrassing.

Charlie exhaled into the receiver, and the silence that spanned the phone line was tense. "There's just no way for me to like that."

"Sorry. I thought you'd want to know."

"I do— I mean—just be careful, Bella. I worry about you." Charlie paused. "And don't you dare do something stupid."

I closed my eyes and willed the ache in my throat away. It would do no good to let Charlie think anything was out of the ordinary. I could cry later. Charlie deserved to have some hope, and it would do me good to have a reminder of what I was fighting for. "I was thinking about coming to see you in a few weeks."

"I don't like that it sounds like you'll just be visiting." Charlie didn't sound happy.

"I just miss you is all."

"I miss you, too, Bells." When I didn't answer he asked, "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine. Tired. I've been busy."

"Alright." Charlie obviously didn't believe me.

"Love you, Dad."

"Yeah, love you, too."

I stared at the floor long after hanging up. Then, with an entirely fake smile that wasn't fooling Peter, went about my nighttime routine. Maybe in the morning the future wouldn't look so bleak.

* * *

I woke to the crash of my hotel room door colliding with the wall. By the time I opened my eyes, Alice was sitting on her knees, hovering over me. I blinked once, and she had hauled me up to crush me in a hug.

"I missed you! Oh, I missed you so much!"

She kissed my cheek and tightened her arms around me until I had to sputter a protest. "I missed you too, but I don't see how suffocating me is going to help either of us."

Alice loosened her grip, leaned back, and brushed my hair behind my ear with a somewhat manic smile on her face. If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn she was about to start crying.

"Look at you." She shook her head as her grin widened. "These months have been so good to you."

I glanced over Alice's shoulder to find Peter scowling as he walked through the open door, Jasper right behind him. I wasn't sure where Edward was, but I decided I wasn't going to ask. He could probably use some space; I knew I could. Instead I turned back to Alice and let loose a grin of my own.

"I should have called more, right? I know. I wanted to, but Jasper said not to." Alice flopped onto the bed beside me and scooted up to sit against the headboard. She huffed and shot a glare towards Peter and Jasper. "He insisted that I 'give you some space', whatever that means. Jerk. I don't know why I listened."

Jasper wasn't fazed in the least by Alice's little rant. He'd probably heard it dozens of times by now.

I tried to think of how to reply, but in the end just said, "I really did miss you."

"Not _too_ much, I'm assuming." Alice made an exaggerated nod toward Peter. I imagined the look on my face was probably the same as his—eyes narrowed with a slight frown. Where in the world had she gotten that from? Alice laughed and tapped the side of her nose. "You smell like each other."

This was not a conversation I wanted to have with Peter and Jasper in the room. The only thing that made me feel better about it was that they both looked twice as uncomfortable as I was. I guessed that this was also something they'd heard before on the way here.

"I should be furious with you," Alice teased. "Taking sides with the enemy, how could you?"

I drew my lip between my teeth trying to stifle my laughter. I was going to have to get used to navigating Alice's spontaneous brand of conversation again.

"Oh my God, you're not even blushing." Alice turned and shook her head at Peter. "What did you _do_ to her?!"

I would have found the whole exchange to be hilarious if I wasn't too busy being concerned for the way Alice seemed to be unable to let go of my arm. I hadn't thought she'd be affected by our distance, but clearly, she was. I was starting to feel guilty for keeping her at arm's length.

"Alice…" The stern note I tried to inject was ruined by the giggles I couldn't keep at bay.

"Yes, yes, I know. None of my business, right?" She somehow managed to both smile at me and glare at Peter at the same time. "At least tell me if this means I'm going to have to start being nice to him."

"Absolutely not." I laughed. It was impossible not to. "Somebody has to help me call him out when he's being obnoxious."

"So long as you have your priorities straight."

"Alice." With one word Jasper managed to convey so much.

"I know, I know." Alice huffed, giving my arm a gentle tug. I moved to sit closer to her, and the moment I was settled Alice hooked her arm through mine. "More important things to discuss."

"That's right," Jasper said. He gave me a small nod of acknowledgement before crossing his arms. "I hear we have a pest problem. Let's talk strategy."


End file.
